


Like a Fucking God

by Civilbloodoncivilhands



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Kiara is a lesbian because I want her to be and so does miss madison bailey, M/M, Suppression of feelings, oblivious pope
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24266866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Civilbloodoncivilhands/pseuds/Civilbloodoncivilhands
Summary: He stands to the side and watches Kiara and Pope hugging their parents and sobbing, knowing that there’s no way in hell his father’s coming for him and even if he did there’s no way in hell JJ would want to hug him. He sees Kiara’s face crumple and her chest heave with silent tears as she desperately grabs onto her mom, and he feels nothing. He sees Pope bury his face into his dad’s shoulder, fingers gripping his shirt so tightly it almost rips, and he feels nothing. The lights around him flash and he can distantly hear the sound of people consoling one another and shouting out orders, but the noise just washes over him and he feels nothing.When you're young and vulnerable and an idiot, dealing with the death of your best friend is hard, especially when your best friend turns out to be not so dead. The Pogues try to deal with John B and Sarah's death and navigate what this means for the group and for each other.
Relationships: JJ/Pope (Outer Banks)
Comments: 85
Kudos: 218





	1. Into the Nothingness

**Author's Note:**

> I love this trashy show and I love JJ and Pope and I love my queen Kiara and so I'm writing them. This is self-indulgent but when is anything I write not self-indulgent. (Chapters are gonna alternate Pope and JJ POV)

JJ can’t wrap his head around the fact that John B’s just gone. Disappeared like that into the ocean, his lungs filling up with water, struggling to reach the surface until finally the lack of oxygen becomes too much and he sinks to the bottom, body cold and lifeless. Sarah too. One minute they were alive and so, so close to getting away and the next they’re just… gone. It doesn’t make sense that that can just happen to a person. That one minute can mean the difference between alive and breathing, and dead.

When the police came up to them, serious looks plastered across their faces saying things like “the storm was too much” and “we lost them” JJ felt his entire body surge with anger. He wanted to smash their stupid faces in, and tear them apart and beat them and tell them to look harder because there was no _fucking_ way his best friend was going to drown! There was no _fucking_ way he was going to lose someone again.

Now, though, JJ feels nothing at all, and he’s pretty sure that’s worse.

He stands to the side and watches Kiara and Pope hugging their parents and sobbing, knowing that there’s no way in hell his father’s coming for him and even if he did there’s no way in hell JJ would want to hug him. He sees Kiara’s face crumple and her chest heave with silent tears as she desperately grabs onto her mom, and he feels nothing. He sees Pope bury his face into his dad’s shoulder, fingers gripping his shirt so tightly it almost rips, and he feels nothing. The lights around him flash and he can distantly hear the sound of people consoling one another and shouting out orders, but the noise just washes over him and he feels nothing.

It's a strange thing, to feel nothing after being filled with so much anger just five minutes ago. It’s like his body and brain have shut down and refuse to acknowledge anything but the facts. John B is dead. Sarah is dead. The police chased them into a storm and killed them. Kie and Pope are crying. And JJ stands there feeling nothing.

He can see Pope’s parents reaching out their hands towards him and he allows himself to be pulled into their embrace, his head slotting itself between Pope’s head and Pope’s dad’s shoulder. Their warmth engulfs him, and he closes his eyes and lets the feeling wash over him. So tired. He’s so tired and exhausted and this feels nice. It feels safe. JJ doesn’t think he’s ever felt this safe in his entire life. He lets his head rest gently against Pope’s and god that feels even safer.

After about a minute JJ can feel Pope pull away and he opens his eyes to find him wrapping Kie up in his arms and holding her tightly to his chest, but JJ can’t bring himself to care. Pope’s mom and dad are still hugging him so, so tightly and so he just lets himself be held and allows himself to feel comforted by the fact that for once in his life he doesn’t have to be on edge while in the arms of an adult.

* * *

The car is mostly silent on the ride back to Pope’s house. Pope’s mom and dad occasionally speak quietly to each other, sitting up in the front, but JJ is grateful that no one tries to talk to him. He’s never felt this tired in his entire life and now that they’re away from the tent, and all the flashing lights and sirens have disappeared he realizes how much his head hurts. He doesn’t think he could stand trying to make conversation or jesus- _fuck_ , try to talk about the accident right now, and so he leans his head against Pope’s shoulder not even bothering to think about how he’s going to have to justify that in the morning, and closes his eyes. JJ can feel Pope stiffen for just a second and then he leans his head against the top of JJ’s and they stay like that for the rest of the ride.

The minute they reach Pope’s house, Pope’s dad turns off the car and turns around to face the two boys sitting tiredly in the back.

“JJ?”

“Mmm?” JJ thinks about lifting his head to answer properly, but decides that the amount of energy it would take to do that isn’t worth it.

“You’re staying with us tonight,” Pope’s dad continues, his voice soft, but firm, “And I don’t want to hear you even try to argue with me about that.”

Even JJ isn’t enough of a dumbass to consider doing that, and besides, he was basically looking for the perfect excuse to avoid his dad just a bit longer, so he shakes his head gently, causing Pope to sit up properly and blink wearily at him.

They climb out of the car slowly, and JJ drags his feet up the front path and onto the Heywards’s porch, using up all the energy he has left to keep himself from keeling over onto the rotting wood. With everything that’s happened tonight the last thing he wants is to get a splinter in one of his knees. They enter the house and JJ is surprised to discover just how much it smells like Pope. Which is weird since JJ wasn’t even aware Pope had a smell until now. It’s comforting, though, like the entire house is wrapping him up in its arms and welcoming him home with its familiar scent and its weird, Pope-like vibes. He imagines Pope running around here as a kid. Jumping on the couch with his dad yelling at him to stop it, and then studying like the golden-boy he is when he gets older and school starts to become more important than fun. JJ wishes he could have seen Pope’s house before having to be dragged here because of a disaster. He wishes he was allowed to indulge in the squirmy, warm feeling that exists in the pit of his stomach and snakes through the rest of his body making his chest tighten and the tips of his fingers tingle.

He watches Pope as he kisses his mom and dad goodnight and for just a second he wonders what it would be like to be the one being kissed goodnight by Pope. It’d probably be soft and warm and wet and the squirmy feeling almost squeezes JJ to death and yeah, okay, _no_. No no no no no.

JJ’s much too tired to filter away any of the thoughts passing through his head right now, but he hopes to god that whatever it is that’s causing him to go all sappy fucks off in the morning because if this is the new normal JJ might just try and follow John B to the bottom of the ocean just so he doesn’t have to deal with whatever the hell these feelings mean. (Not that he doesn’t know what they mean – but he’s been pretty good at keeping them at the back of his head until now, and if that filter is gone for good there’s no way he’s not going to end up blurting something out and fucking everything up like the useless idiot he is.)

Pope turns around to face JJ and for just a second JJ thinks Pope’s about to grab his hand, but instead he just touches JJ’s shoulder lightly and motions for him to follow him as he turns down the hallway and into a bedroom off to the right.

Pope’s bedroom is small and painted a boring shade of beige, but the bed looks comfortable and the lamp sitting on the bedside table emits a soft, warm glow when Pope turns it on.

They’re both soaking wet and disgusting from the storm and Pope says that his mom would never forgive him if he got JJ sick by making him go to bed without changing so they take turns showering. Pope goes first and while JJ waits, he sits on the edge of the bed, trying not to mess up the sheets. Usually he’d be feeling restless at this point, but there’s a numbness inside of him that won’t go away and it makes movement seem far more tiring than normal. He feels empty. Like all the air, and blood, and vital things that make up who he is as a person have been stripped away and it’s just the ghost of who JJ used to be, sitting there in Pope’s bedroom, on Pope’s bed, not caring at all that his best friend is never coming back.

JJ wants to care. He wants to care so fucking badly, but really what’s the point of caring if there’s nothing he can do about it? So he sits on the bed and he reminds himself to breathe and he waits for Pope to come out and when he does, hair wet from the shower and looking very, very tired, JJ watches him as he rummages through the drawers and then tosses JJ an oversized T-shirt and basketball shorts to change into. JJ picks them up slowly, like his arms have forgotten how to work, and walks to the bathroom closing the door gently behind him. He strips off his clothes, turns on the shower, steps in, and just stands there and lets the hot water wash over him, not caring that it burns just a little. He doesn’t bother with soap because he’s not sure he’d have the energy to lift it.

Once JJ’s dried off and changed into the clothes Pope gave him, he goes back into the bedroom to find Pope sitting on his bed with his back to the door. JJ can’t see his face, but he’s slumped over and looks so much smaller than usual. Like Pope’s been stripped of everything that makes him _him_ as well.

“JJ?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know how to … I’m not sure what I’m supposed to –”

“Just go to bed Pope.”

JJ climbs under the sheets (neither of them can be bothered to set up the air mattress) and lays down. He waits in silence for just a minute before he can feel the bed shift and Pope slides in beside him. JJ is hyper-aware of how close they are, and the burning of the shower feels like nothing compared to this. There’s so much heat, and Pope’s arm is right there, and JJ is so _fucking_ close to suffocating in it and he wishes the numbness from before would come back because if there was ever a time to not fucking care about anything, this would be it. And now he wants to punch something or squeeze something or just _scream_ because everything is so fucking much and he’s just lying in a bed next to a boy who he has no _idea_ what to do with and Pope clears his throat, but it sounds shaky like he’s trying not to cry and JJ is suddenly overwhelmed with the horrible need to cuddle up to Pope, but he’s got just enough impulse control left to know that that’s the worst possible thought he’s ever had – in fact, most of the time the majority of JJ’s impulse control is directed towards keeping himself from acting like a complete idiot in front of Pope. 

“JJ?” Pope whispers, and JJ just about launches himself out of the bed.

“Yeah?” He whispers back.

“I don’t –” Pope chokes back a sob and JJ just wants to strangle him for making everything so difficult. He wants to strangle him for feeling the way that you’re supposed to feel when you’ve lost your best friend, and he wants to strangle him for turning to JJ when he needed to be comforted because doesn’t Pope know that JJ is _anything_ but comforting?

“Just go the _fuck_ to bed Pope.”

He turns his back on Pope and he clenches the sheets between his fists, and he pretends everything is okay and he plays the part of the asshole because what the fuck else is he supposed to do? JJ can’t fall apart. Not now, not ever. Not in front of Pope or Kiara, or his dad. Not because of John B or Sarah Cameron or anything else ever. Because if JJ falls apart he’s pretty damn fucking sure he won’t be able to put himself back together.


	2. Something Similar to Normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pope POV
> 
> tw description of a panic attack

When Pope wakes up the next morning it takes him a moment to remember exactly what’s happened. His bed is unusually warm, and as he blinks his eyes open and watches the sun stream in through the window, he can’t help but feel an eerie sense of calm. Like things are very, very wrong, but in a very quiet way. A way that he can’t place or name. When he does remember, it doesn’t come gradually. Instead, everything hits him at once and seeps into his veins and tries to drown him and Pope really thinks that water analogies are just about the worst thing his brain could’ve provided him with right now. 

He rolls over and comes face to face with JJ, still asleep, and drooling on Pope’s pillow. He looks different, like this. All quiet and peaceful. It’s unsettling, but in a good way. Pope likes to think that he’s the one who knows JJ the best out of all the Pogues, he’s the one he spends the most time with after all, but there are times, like the night in the hot tub, when Pope feels like he doesn’t know him at all. JJ is all sharp edges and stupid jokes and zero-impulse control, and he spends the majority of his free time smoking weed and drinking and launching himself head-first into dangerous situations. But Pope knows he’s also loyal as hell and will do anything for his friends, including pushing his own emotions and well-being to the side to make sure everyone else is okay. Sometimes it’s really hard caring for someone who cares so much for you, but won’t let you give the same amount of care back. It’s like JJ thinks everyone else is more important, more worth saving than he is.

Pope wants to talk about things with JJ. He wants to talk about this big fucking thing that they’ve all gone through, but he can’t, because he knows JJ won’t. At least not so soon. So he’ll have to settle for Kiara. Pope wonders why that feels so much like settling.

He rolls out of bed, careful not to disturb JJ and drags himself into the bathroom. Pope still has bags under his eyes despite the surprisingly good sleep he’s gotten, and he splashes water on his face to try and wake himself up, but then it’s just him standing in a bathroom at nine in the morning looking at himself in a mirror and John B is gone and he’s not coming back and Pope doesn’t know what to do about that. The Pogues don’t have a designated leader, but if they were held at gunpoint and asked to name who it was he guarantees all of them would say John B. And what does a group do without its leader? And isn’t it so fucking selfish to be concerned about that when people have died? John B and Sarah have _died_ , and Pope can’t do anything to bring them back. He’s supposed to be this super smart kid with a bunch of skills and knowledge, but none of that means anything now because it won’t matter how hard he tries or how hard he wants it to happen, Pope can’t bring them back.

He can feel the tears start to stream down his face and he presses his back to the door and just crumples to the ground. Pope’s never been a crier because crying isn’t productive, but he can’t control this. He cried a lot last night and he pretty nearly cried himself to sleep, but at least there was some structure to it. He was aware of his surroundings and he was aware of his parents, and Kie, and JJ and the sirens and the rain, and the warmth of his bed, and the stillness of the air, but now he can’t get a grasp on anything.

It’s like he’s looking down on himself and just watching as he goes through a full-blown breakdown and he wants to reach out and shake himself or slap himself or something, but he can’t reach far enough. And then there’s this feeling that something is closing in on him, but he doesn’t know what it is and he’s scared, but he doesn’t know why.

Pope needs everything to just stop, he needs the pressure to go away and he needs the pounding in his head to slow down and he needs his chest to stop tightening and he needs his hands to stop shaking and he needs his lungs to stop filling up with this cold, hard fear that squeezes and squeezes and squeezes and chases him and laughs at him. There’s a noise in his ears but it’s not a noise that he knows and he needs to run, but his legs won’t work and he needs everything to stop being so _fucking_ loud.

His hands tear at his hair and he digs his nails into his arms, and he tries to get the pressure to just _stop_. His chest feels like it’s going to cave in and cause Pope to implode and everything is closing in on him and he’s both outside of it and trapped in it and he can’t fucking breathe, and he just needs to be held or squeezed or torn apart because it’s suffocating him.

_Stop stop stop please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Please please please go away go away_

Pope scratches at the ground trying to get a grip on something, anything, and he wraps his arms around himself and he squeezes his eyes shut and he just lays there for what feels like forever, shaking and sobbing.

_It’s not real this isn’t real you’re okay you’re okay you’re okay it’s not real Please stop please please stop I’m sorry I’m sorry please stop_

Finally, his breathing starts to slow down, and once the sobs stop coming Pope just lies there on the cold tile floor, too exhausted to get up. He feels empty, but in the good way. Where he can just ignore everything going on around him and he doesn’t need to think about anything because he’s too empty to think.

The noise is gone now and the pressure as well, and Pope lies on the floor listening to his breath and watching a fly walk across the ceiling. The lights seem a little brighter than they were before, and the floor feels a little more solid.

He sits up slowly.

And then he stands up.

And then he washes his face and blows his nose and exits the bathroom.

JJ isn’t in the bed anymore and Pope can’t decide whether he wants JJ to have disappeared completely, or whether he wants him to still be in the house somewhere. If JJ woke up to Pope’s breakdown, he’s pretty sure he’d rather JJ just left.

Pope changes into one of his comfiest sweaters even though it’s basically a million degrees outside because it’s easier to pretend someone is holding him when he’s wearing it.

When Pope walks into the kitchen he finds JJ at the stove cooking and he stands there for a moment wondering when JJ learned to cook and why Pope thought that he couldn’t. It’s not like his dad ever fed him.

“Hey man,” JJ turns around to face him as Pope goes to sit down and he looks like he’s trying very hard to not seem uncomfortable. He shifts on his feet a little, does what seems to be a very poor variation of nervous jazz hands and then clears his throat,

“I, um… I made breakfast. There’s toast, and I couldn’t find the jam so I improvised and used mayonnaise. I also found some cereal and milk which is skim which is disgusting, but you know, you do you man. Your bowls are all dirty so I poured it into these mugs which I think is fine because cereal is basically just liquid with chunks in it,” As he’s talking JJ places everything down in front of Pope and glances at him reservedly, as if he’s trying to assess whether Pope is going to fall to pieces or not. 

“I also made eggs,” JJ points towards the stove, “And usually I’m pretty good at it, but these ones are… um… kinda… eggy.”

Pope just stares at him, “JJ, what does that even mean?”

JJ huffs out a laugh and then smirks at him. He snatches one of the plates off the table and flips an egg onto it placing it down in front of Pope with a flourish, “Bro just try them, you’ll get it.”

The eggs are eggy, but Pope eats all of them anyway. JJ sits down beside him and quickly devours all of the mayonnaise toast which Pope has to admit he isn’t too upset about.

They don’t talk about Pope’s break down and they don’t talk about John B or Sarah, but Pope thinks that maybe, just for now, that’s okay. A person can only feel so many feelings in a day and Pope’s pretty sure he’s had his fair share of emotions to last at least another week.

After they’re done, Pope clears off the table and makes his way towards the sink to start washing the dishes. He looks at JJ still lounging at the table, tapping his fingers to some rhythm Pope can’t make out, and he feels a warm, sticky feeling start to blossom in his chest.

“This was nice.”

“What?”

“Eating breakfast together.”

“Right, okay. Don’t go soft on me Pope, that’s kinda weird man.”

“Nothing about this isn’t weird, JJ.”

JJ’s fingers start to twitch just a little faster and he presses his mouth into a thin line in the way that he always does when he’s pushing down his emotions and refusing to acknowledge their existence, but Pope doesn’t look away. Even from all the way across the room he can make out the sharp blue of JJ’s eyes, and the messiness of his hair, and the confusing look on his face. Like there’s something he wants from Pope that he doesn’t want to want and that he’s trying very hard to not want, but that he’s finding very difficult to ignore. Pope wishes he knew what it was. Pope would give JJ anything in the world if he knew it would make him happy.

Finally, JJ stands up and Pope turns back around to continue scrubbing the cup he’s holding, but then JJ leaps onto his back and hangs onto him for dear life and jumps off and wraps an arm around his shoulders and drags him away and JJ’s always been touchy, but Pope swears he holds him just a little bit tighter than usual. Like he’s scared Pope’s going to fall apart and he’s trying to keep him together.

* * *

“So,” JJ balances precariously on top of a rickety wooden fence as Pope watches him closely to make sure he doesn’t fall off. After ditching their dirty dishes Pope and JJ had just walked around town for a bit, not really paying attention to where they were headed. They’d ended up at a cluster of houses near the waterfront, most of them either run-down or completely abandoned, the effects of both storms too expensive for the people who once lived there. The air around them is sticky and humid and Pope is seriously starting to regret wearing a sweatshirt, but there’s a slight breeze and as it washes over him Pope closes his eyes and he could maybe believe that things are almost normal. Or at least, as normal as they can be considering… everything. “You and Kie huh?”

Pope opens his eyes to find JJ grinning at him. He shrugs.

“Oh c’mon man! You’re like, blowing the whole no Pogues on Pogues macking rule out of the water, but it’s about time you get some so I’m gonna let it slide.”

“Oh are you? Thanks JJ.”

“You’re _so_ welcome.”

“Anyway, I’m not ‘getting some’. At least… not yet.”

JJ does a (poorly-executed) cartwheel off the fence just about kicking Pope in the face and lands on his knees in the dirt. He brushes them off as he stands up placing a hand on Pope’s shoulder.

“Well, as my role as your wingman –”

“I never said you were my wingman.”

“As my role as your wingman, I make it my _duty_ to make _sure_ —"

“No thanks I’m good.” Pope shrugs off JJ’s hand and starts to make his way towards the water.

“Hey!” JJ protests, “You didn’t even hear what I was gonna say!”

“I didn’t need to, I knew it was gonna be gross,” Pope calls back over his shoulder, without stopping.

JJ comes up behind Pope, leans in really close until his mouth is just a couple of inches from Pope’s ear and moans breathlessly “ _Pussy_.”

“Stop!” Pope shoves him away, but he can’t help but laugh. It’s nice to think that some things are never gonna change between them and no matter what happens he can also rely on JJ to act like a dumbass. Steady and constant, like an anchor in the storm that is their lives.

His newly charged phone vibrates in his pocket and Pope pulls it out struggling to keep JJ at arm's length as he tries to get a peek at the screen. It’s a text from Kiara asking if they can meet up tonight at the Chateau, all three of them, to have a private memorial for John B and Sarah. Pope shows the text to JJ who shrugs and says, “It’s Kiara. We gotta do it man.”

As Pope texts her back saying that both he and JJ will be there, JJ flops to the ground slinging an arm over his face to shade his eyes from the harsh sun beating down on them. Pope lies down beside him and rests his arms behind his head.

“JJ?”

“Yeah?”

“You gonna go home tonight?” Pope really wants him to say no.

“Nah. Might give him a few more days to calm down you know?”

Pope does know.

He turns his head to look at JJ lying beside him, eyes closed and breathing softly, and thinks that maybe they’re gonna be okay. John B is gone and that hurts. There’s a big empty space inside him that burns and aches and will never go away, but Pope thinks that just maybe he can ease that ache with other things. Fill the space with warm, sticky feelings that he can’t explain. Care for Kiara and JJ, and they’ll let themselves hurt and ache and remember and get through this together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr ❤️](https://backintheggamebaby.tumblr.com/)


	3. Obitchuaries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JJ POV
> 
> tw brief mention of physical abuse

By the time Kiara meets up with them at the Chateau JJ’s already on his third beer.

He gets why they’re doing this. People need closure and it’s a nice gesture or whatever-the-fuck, but it’s not really something he can face while sober. So he isn’t.

The setting sun is dark red tonight – a sailor’s delight, Big John would say – and it hangs low in the sky casting a deep red glow over the marshes and trees and houses until everything looks slightly bloody. _Appropriate,_ JJ thinks, and then immediately wishes he could tear his brain out of his skull and smash it against the rocks.

There’s a slight chill in the air, very different from the heat of the afternoon, and JJ watches as Kiara and Pope hug hello and then Pope tugs his sweater over his head and offers it to Kie. Sober JJ thought that slightly inebriated JJ would be able to deal with things like that, but apparently slightly inebriated JJ has other ideas. He takes another swig from the bottle in his hand.

Kiara and Pope are still talking at the end of the dock and JJ hates the fact that his chest is aching. Hates the fact that there’s this deep ugly feeling swirling around inside him. Hates the fact that Kiara is so Kiara – pretty and funny and soft and perfect. Hates the fact that seeing Kiara standing there in Pope’s too-big sweater makes him feel more in two minutes than he’s felt in the last two days.

JJ hasn’t cried at all since it happened. Hasn’t even had to push down any feelings of sadness or try to hide the tears because there weren’t any to hide. He thought that once the initial shock wore off it would be similar to how he felt when his dad beat him, raw and battered and bruised and thrown around and stripped down to nothing, but just inside instead of out. But no, his insides stay completely bare.

Kiara walks up to JJ and he can tell that she’s been crying, her eyes are puffy, and she doesn’t look like she’s slept at all in the last 24 hours, and goddammit she even grieves better than he does. She kneels down beside him, wraps him up in her arms and buries her face in his neck. JJ hesitates just a second before he reciprocates, wrapping his arms around her back and pressing her tightly to his chest, beer bottle still in hand. Her shoulders start to shake, and he holds her tighter, trying to give her the same comfort she gave him that night in the hot tub, and the aching inside his chest gets stronger. Kiara’s always felt everything so deeply and yeah, JJ may have lost his best friend, but she’s lost two – one she just got back. He can’t help thinking how much better it’d’ve been if he had been the one to go down instead of Sarah and John B. At least then there’d be something to hold them together. JJ’s never been good at that. Fucking things up yeah sure, all the time, but feelings and affection and love? He’s pretty sure he was born without those abilities.

Sometimes JJ feels like half a person. Like someone that was put together haphazardly and without care and then just thrown into the world with a “good luck” and “don’t fuck things up”. It’s easier to just be loud and reckless and stupid because maybe if everyone’s laughing at the things he’s doing, no one will notice the things that are wrong and missing.

Kiara pulls back, wiping her face on the cuffs on Pope’s sweater and JJ lets her go. He grabs two more beers not caring whether they’re cold or not and follows her down to the dock where Pope sits waiting for them.

They make a small raft out of sticks and brush that they find lying around the yard and then Kiara pulls out one of John B’s old bracelets, and a headband of Sarah’s that she meant to give back, but never had the time to return. She puts both things on the raft and takes a deep breath before placing it on the water.

“Does anyone have a lighter?”

“Yeah, here.” JJ reaches over and hands it to Kiara then stands back and watches as she lights a corner of the raft and pushes it away from the dock.

The sun has mostly set by now and the little raft stands out against the deep blue of the water, the small flame flickering brightly. Kiara says it’s hopeful, JJ thinks it looks like it’s mocking them.

“John B and Sarah were two of the best people I’ve ever known,” Kiara twists her fingers together as she shifts on her feet uncertainly. Her hair hangs loose down her back and JJ thinks he’s never seen her look so small, just standing on the edge of the old wooden dock, buried in Pope’s sweater and trying not to cry.

“John B was one of my best friends in the whole world. He made me feel welcome here when I felt like I didn’t fit in anywhere. He never judged me for being a kook – at least not out loud – and he understood why I wanted to get the hell out of there and just live for once. He was funny and loyal and even though he had some really, really bad ideas, he had a lot of good ones too and honestly…” Kiara starts to choke up, and JJ finishes off his fourth beer in one sip.

“Honestly, I don’t know where I would be right now if I’d never met him. And Sarah… Sarah was my _best_ friend, even if she did betray me that one time, and I’m just… I’m so upset that… I just really wish we had had more time together because I missed out on a lot of great stuff pretending to be mad and petty and prideful. And I’m really sorry Sarah for all the mean things I said about you behind your back when we hated each other because none of them were true. You were kind and sweet and you accepted me when no one else would and I’m going to miss you so so much.”

Kiara steps back from the edge of the dock, tears streaming freely down her face, and goes to sit down beside Pope wrapping her arms around her legs and propping her chin up on her knees, still sobbing. Pope rubs her back awkwardly before standing up and walking towards the end of the dock.

“Okay, so… I’ve never been great with things like this. I know I’m supposed to be like, this super smart guy who’s really good with words and – saying things – but this isn’t something that I really know how… to do,” Pope runs his hands distractedly through his hair and lets out a noise of frustration before flopping down onto the edge of the deck. JJ can see the way his chest rises and falls as he takes deep breaths and plays absentmindedly with his fingers looking out over the water.

“Ever since I was little people would always tell me how smart I was and how I was going to go so far, but it never really felt… real. It felt like everyone just kind of wanted something from me and wanted me to use my cleverness to do great things, or to _be_ great. But you… John B, you were the first person who actually made me want to be smart for myself. It was like you believed I was smart no matter what I did. No matter how I did on a test, or where I placed in the spelling bee, or which college I was gonna end up going to – you were always there telling me that I was worth something. Maybe not… in those words… exactly, but that’s how it felt. Like your pride for me wasn’t conditional.”

“And Sarah… I didn’t really know you personally. I knew who you were, of course, everyone did… But I remember this one time, when I was eleven, I think. I was down by Figure Eight, helping my dad fix some rich guy’s boat, when you came out of the hotel carrying two glasses of lemonade. You gave one to my dad and you gave one to me and then you pulled a sucker out of your pocket when my dad wasn’t looking and offered it to me. It’s probably kind of a stupid thing to remember about you, and I bet you‘d forgotten all about it, but you said that it was a special sucker you had been saving since Halloween to give to someone who deserved it and you thought I was that person. It was the first time anyone told me I deserved anything without there being some sort of catch,” Pope takes a deep shuddering breath and for a moment JJ thinks he’s going to start sobbing, but he just pushes himself off the dock and stands up, brushing his hands on his pants.

“So I guess that’s what made you so special. Both of you. You made me feel like I mattered and that’s not something that a lot of people can do.” 

Pope turns away from the raft and walks back towards JJ and Kiara, who’s still sitting hunched over with her head on her knees. He stops before JJ and gives him a small, reassuring smile, before sitting down next to Kiara. JJ grabs the last bottle of beer and makes his way towards the end of the dock. The sun is long gone by now, and as he looks out towards the water, he can’t help but think how different everything is just a day later. Less than 24 hours have gone by and JJ is standing here holding some kind of makeshift, bullshit memorial for two 16 year olds who tried to play god and lost. Also there’s no wind, no rocky waters, and everything is super fucking calm and it’s basically like the storm never happened. JJ thinks that if there were to be a God, which he’d swear on his life that there isn’t, he’d really like to punch them in the fucking face right now. 

JJ wants to say something nice, something meaningful and deep, but he’s four and a half drinks in, and his head is swimming and his friends are gone and nothing fucking means anything anymore. The universe and God and whatever other bullshit, omni-fucking-present force of freaking nature or whatever has gone off the rails and screwed everything over and given life no fucking meaning and he can’t be bothered to care.

“John B and I… Shared the same name. So that’s a fact about us. He was John and I was John, and then we met, and he was John B and I was JJ. And I don’t fucking know why because I don’t even have another J in my name, so JJ stands for John nothing which I guess is appropriate, but John B thought it sounded cooler. That’s also why he added the B to his name. To sound cooler, like a grade-A _asshole_ ,”

JJ lets out a bitter laugh and starts to gesture wildly with his hands, beer spilling over the sides of the bottle and dripping down his arm, sticky and wet,

“JJ –” He can hear Kiara call his name, but he doesn’t care.

“And _Sarah_. Good ol’ Sarah Cameron! I didn’t know her, none of us did really. She joined this thing like three days ago and now here we are. She was pretty cool though… I guess. You know, she had an insane father, like seriously _fucked_ up. And an insane _brother_ actually. Actually when you think about it her whole murder family is pretty fucking insane—”

“JJ!”

“But not Sarah. Nope. Sarah was pretty fucking cool. You know, she _loved_ John B. She loved him so much that she convinced him to take her with him, even though the law wasn’t after her, and she kinda drove him into the storm, but you know, I’m the one who gave them the boat so –”

“ _JJ_.”

He swings back around to look at Kiara and Pope, sitting three feet away and looking at him like they don’t know what to do. And of course they don’t. No one ever knows what to do with JJ. He comes down here pretending that he’ll be able to handle it and that he’ll be chill and deal with whatever shit his brain decides to try and spew out of his mouth, but in the end he’s just always going to end up acting like an asshole because it’s the only thing he’s ever been good at. JJ raises his bottle towards them, grin plastered across his face,

“Let’s pour one out! For John B and Sarah!” He empties the rest of the beer into the lake, smashes the bottle on the dock, and walks away.

* * *

Kiara finds him on the porch of the Chateau. JJ tried to get inside, but the door was locked, probably by the police, and he’s not really in the mood to be charged with breaking and entering right now – even if it shouldn’t technically count as breaking and entering since JJ’s spent more time here than he ever has at his own house. JJ’s in the middle of rolling a blunt when she sits down beside him, the old couch groaning under the added weight, a slight layer of dust flying up and then settling down again.

After a moment she turns to face him, “What _was_ that? You can’t just walk away, JJ”

“Thou shalt not speak illeth of the dead-eth.”

“Okay, but you did speak illeth.”

JJ ignores her and finishes rolling the blunt. He reaches for his lighter before remembering that he’d offered it to Kiara earlier. She pulls it out and hands it to him reluctantly, clearly not in the mood for an argument. She watches him as he lights it and takes a long drag.

“Look we gotta talk about this JJ.”

JJ turns his head away from Kiara and blows a trail of smoke out of his mouth before turning to look at her amusedly, “What’s there to talk about Kie? John B’s gone. That’s it, we can’t do anything about it. Besides people who basically kill their own friends don’t get the privilege of being sad.”

“It’s not your fault JJ –”

“Who gave them the fucking boat, Kie? John B and Sarah are dead and it’s all my fucking fault.”

JJ takes another hit and lets the effects of the smoke seep into his body and brain before releasing it. It’s not the best weed he’s ever had, but working in conjunction with the alcohol and considering how wired he is right now, he’s already starting to feel a buzz.

“I thought we were over pushing people away, JJ.” Kiara gently reaches for his arm, but he pulls away and stands up pacing from one end of the porch to the other.

“Look, just because you hugged me once in a hot tub it doesn’t mean you’re some kind of feelings wizard.”

“Feelings wizard?” She looks the exact opposite of impressed, but JJ doesn’t care.

“Yeah. _Kiara._ And I’m sorry if you thought you were just gonna be able to swoop in here like some sort of rich kook-princess with a superiority complex and save me, but that’s not _fucking_ happening.”

Kiara rises from the couch, hands clenched and jaw tight. The only other time JJ’s seen her this angry was when John B implied that she was jealous because he liked Sarah. There’s a very tense pause where he thinks she’s about to slap him, but she just shakes her head and pushes past him to get to the door,

“You’re an asshole JJ.” And yeah, that tracks, “I’m gonna go see if Pope got the raft out of the water yet.”

“You’re taking the raft out?”

“Yes of course. That’s called _littering_ , JJ.”

She stalks out of the room, letting the porch door slam behind her, and JJ takes another hit before throwing himself down onto the floor and closing his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> less jj/pope in this chapter lots of jj/pope in the next one 
> 
> side-note: i always forget they're supposed to be 16 lol i love the actors but that's a big reach


	4. How Would You Describe Burning?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pope POV

JJ’s silent on the way home. Kiara offered to drive them, but Pope thought it’d be better to walk. Let JJ work off some steam. He doesn’t seem angry, Pope’s pretty sure the strong smell of weed coming off of him has something to do with it, but with JJ it’s always better to be safe than sorry.

As they walk through the quiet streets Pope thinks about saying something, but he doesn’t know where to start. There’s not really anything you can say to someone who just insulted their best friend at a private, impromptu memorial. At least, not anything nice. And Pope really doesn’t feel like saying something mean right now. He doesn’t really want to say mean things to JJ in general.

By the time they get home his parents have already gone to bed which Pope is grateful for because as much as he enjoys having JJ sleep over, he doesn’t really want to explain why there’s a smell of weed trailing them into the house. Pope switches on the light in the kitchen and grabs a towel from the sink. He wets it then hands it to JJ who uses it to wipe off the dried beer that dripped down his arm.

They can’t really go on just pretending that everything’s okay. JJ’s never even been to Pope’s house before all of this happened and even though that’s kind of a weird thing in itself, it’s a heck of a lot weirder to be standing in the middle of his kitchen at 10 at night after having watched JJ just casually ramble on about John B and Sarah and their fucked up life, and acting like that didn’t just happen and like they hang out like this all the time.

Pope watches JJ scrub at his elbow where the beer has caked on particularly thick and decides to just go for it. Be casual.

“So –”

“Just drop it Pope.” Guess not.

“I don’t _really_ think it’s something we can drop.”

JJ glares at him for a minute before sighing and flopping down at the kitchen table, towel bunched up in his hand.

“Look I - I - I just… I don’t… _fuck._ ” Pope watches as JJ struggles to get the words out, his mouth tripping over every one, before sitting down beside him and just waiting it out. Pope knows how it feels to be pressured to talk when you can’t even explain your own thoughts to yourself much less other people.

JJ stands up and starts pacing around the kitchen running his hands through his hair distractedly and making it stand out every which way.

“I’m… I didn’t want to say the things that I did. I just… It just came out, right? And… You know Kiara said nice things, she said really nice things, and then you said some fucking nice things and I just, I don’t see _why_ we all have to be expected to say nice things when it’s been like – a _day_ and for all we know they could be completely fine.”

“You think they’re fine?”

“No.” JJ sits back down, deflated, and he looks so tired. There’s not many times Pope could say he’s seen a side of JJ that needs protecting, JJ’s usually the one to try and protect others, but right now he kind of just wants to wrap JJ up in a hug and hold him close. He doesn’t know how that would work though. Pope doesn’t do touching, and even though JJ touches him all the time he’s not really sure JJ would like being hugged by him. He got pretty freaked out the last time Pope threw himself at him.

“Hey,” He says softly, placing a hand awkwardly on JJ’s shoulder instead, “They could be fine.”

“They aren’t.”

“Okay.” Pope pulls his hand away and bites his lip. He wishes that someone had given him the skills to deal with something like this, but for as long as Pope can remember they don’t talk about serious things. And when they do talk about serious things the serious things get hidden under less serious things like weed, and girls, and so they don’t actually talk about the serious things, but can pat themselves on the back and pretend that they did and that they’re emotionally intelligent when really they’re all just falling apart and hiding it really, really well. Except now Kiara and Pope are falling apart in a way that they can’t hide, and JJ is either pushing his feelings way down or he’s not falling apart at all and Pope doesn’t know which one would be worse. Either way there’s this chasm between them now, and Pope’s never really been good at scaling walls.

“I don’t know how to do this.”

“What?” JJ turns to face him and his eyes look just as exhausted as Pope feels.

“Feelings. Death. Comforting people.”

“That’s okay.”

“Okay.”

They sit there awkwardly, looking at each other way longer than should be comfortable before JJ clears his throat and tosses the used towel back into the sink,

“Bedtime?” JJ claps his hands together, and stands up then walks towards Pope’s bedroom. Pope gets up and follows him.

He grabs the same shirt and shorts from the night before and hands them to JJ, but instead of going into the bathroom to change JJ strips down right there. Pope watches with his mouth open and his heart in his throat as JJ’s muscles ripple and he pulls the shirt over his head before realizing that this isn’t something normal people do while their best friend is getting changed. He turns away quickly, face burning, and stands there awkwardly staring at a crack in his wall until he hears JJ turn around, “You good man?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Pope spins around to face him trying to look nonchalant, “Totally good I was just… zoned out… for a bit.”

“Okay?” JJ shoots him a confused look, but doesn’t press further which Pope is thankful for. He doesn’t know how he’d be able to explain that the sight of JJ’s bare back was what caused him to go all weird inside when he’s been staring at JJ’s bare chest and torso for basically half the summer anyway. 

Pope grabs his pajamas and heads to the washroom to change. When he gets out JJ’s already lying in the bed and he guesses the air mattress is something they’re just not going to bother with at all anymore.

He crawls in next to JJ and realizes for the first time exactly just how tiny his bed really is. Last night he was too preoccupied with trying not to cry to notice just how close they have to be not to fall out of the bed, but now that Pope’s in a clearer state of mind it’s all he can think about. Their arms are pressed right against each other and JJ’s body heat overwhelms everything until it’s the only thing Pope can feel. Normally Pope hates being hot, especially in the middle of the summer with no air conditioning and shitty portable fans, but this heat feels very, very different from the stickiness of the humid night air. It starts at his forearm, where JJ’s pressed up against him, and spreads throughout his body burning him from the outside in.

Pope turns to look at JJ lying beside him, and he can feel his breath hitch in his throat. Oxygen is not something Pope needs to think about regularly, usually his lungs do what they’re supposed to do without needing to be prompted, but something about this makes it very hard for Pope to breathe and he finds himself having to suck in a huge amount of air just to clear his head. 

“JJ?” Pope says, his voice barely a whisper. JJ turns to face him, and this JJ is so much gentler than the one from the night before. The JJ from the night before was intense and prickly and all sharp edges that Pope couldn’t push through, but this JJ is looking at him so softly, and his eyes are so kind it makes Pope ache in a way that he’s never ached in his entire life. It’s kind of like when he has a bruise and he presses on it and then has to pull away sharply because it’s still tender except that the bruise is all over and Pope doesn’t want to pull away from the pressure.

“Yeah?”

He wants to tell JJ that he gets it. That everything is so weird right now and none of them know what they’re doing and it’s all just one big mess, and feelings are hard, and talking is hard, but he’s not alone.

“There’s not much that… Look you’re just – and I don’t know how to…” Pope trails off, not knowing how to continue, but JJ gets it anyway.

“I know,” He smiles faintly at Pope, his lips turning up just a bit and suddenly the entire world is reduced to _JJ, JJ, JJ._

And _oh._ That’s new.

Pope’s feeling feelings that don’t have a name, and JJ is right there, and his eyes are so blue and his hair looks so soft and his face is so fucking pretty and his lips are so fucking red and Pope didn’t know boys were allowed to look like that.

“JJ?” Without meaning to Pope shifts just a little closer to JJ and now he can see every freckle on his sunburnt face and the heat is so strong.

“Yeah?” JJ breathes, his voice barely audible, and Pope’s entire body is tingling, and everything is so _so_ hot and he forgets what he was going to say, but their faces are so close now, and Pope’s never been so scared in his entire life, but he doesn’t want it to end.

JJ’s tongue comes out to swipe against his bottom lip and Pope’s breathing so heavily that he’s sure JJ can hear it. Pope smiles at him a little awkwardly and JJ smiles back, his eyes slightly watery and his cheeks tinged pink, and it really isn’t fair that this is the prettiest JJ’s ever looked in his entire life. He smells like beer and weed, and Pope thinks he’s gone a little high just by proximity because there’s no other explanation for the way his head is swimming and his heart is beating so fast that he can hear the blood rushing in his ears.

He watches as JJ leans in just a little bit and they’re so close now that Pope’s gone cross-eyed trying to look at JJ’s face, but his mind still whispers _closer._

His chest aches so much and he can feel JJ’s breath on his face and it’s like there’s a hand squeezing his heart and tugging him closer, closer, closer and it’s an ache that he wants to drown in. Their noses bump against each other softly and Pope can feel his eyes starting to close.

“You boys okay sleeping in the same bed?” His mom pokes her head in through the door and Pope sits up so quickly he almost gives himself whiplash.

“It’s a little small for the both of you. I can get the air mattress set up right now, make things more comfortable.”

Pope lets out a strangled noise and glances at JJ who’s pushed himself up onto his elbows and is looking back at him speechless and red-faced. A speechless JJ is something Pope never thought he’d see. He turns back around, nearly giving himself whiplash for the second time in the span of thirty seconds and shakes his head,

“We’re fine Mom.”

“You sure?”

“Yep – it’s – yep.” He starts to nod his head frantically then stops when he realizes that turning into a stuttering bobblehead probably looks a little strange.

“Okay, well you two have a good night, don’t stay up too late.” She blows him a kiss on her way out and then closes the door gently behind her.

By the time Pope turns back around to look at JJ, he’s already turned over and buried himself beneath the covers. Pope sits there for a minute just staring at the back of his head trying to make sense of whatever the hell just happened. When he can’t do that, he reaches over and switches off the light then lies back down. He kind of feels like he wants to cry or laugh or just get up and jump up and down on the bed and run around screaming because if Pope doesn’t do something right now he’s probably going to drift away into nothing. And Pope blames this feeling and the fact that he must still be a little high for what next comes out of his mouth.

“Little spoon or big spoon?”

“ _What_?” JJ visibly freezes and Pope doesn’t blame him, that’s not really a question they go around just casually asking each other. JJ doesn’t answer though, and so Pope reaches around him and wraps his arms tight against JJ’s waist. JJ tenses up and Pope’s worried that he’s going to reach around and punch him in the face, but then he relaxes back into Pope’s chest and snuggles into him.

Pope holds JJ as close as possible and buries his face into his hair and the warmth from earlier comes rushing back in, but Pope just lets it flow over him.

Pope used to sleep with stuffed animals squished between his arms when he was little, and now that he’s older he sometimes likes to imagine that he’s falling asleep cuddling someone else (not that he’d ever admit that to anyone), but this is very different. He can feel JJ’s chest rise and fall as he breathes in and out and when Pope shifts his hand up just a little bit, he can feel the faint breeze of JJ’s breath against his skin.

This is much, much better than anything he could have imagined. It’s a little awkward and Pope’s pretty sure he’s going to wake up sweaty and with a sore arm, but JJ is real and warm and tangible. His hair is soft, and it tickles Pope’s face a little bit, and when Pope gently places his hand against JJ’s chest he can feel his heart beating fast against his ribcage. He hugs him even tighter and JJ lets out a little sigh before shifting just a bit to rest his hand over the one Pope has placed on his chest. Pope closes his eyes and lets the gentle rhythm of JJ’s breathing lull him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so now that i've actually planned shit out ive realized this is gonna be at least 15 chapters which oops thats kind of long but whatever
> 
> i hope ya'll liked this i always feel like im much better with angst than actual feelings and fluff but....??
> 
> also i fucking HATE online classes that is all


	5. Push and the World Pushes Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JJ Pov
> 
> tw detailed description of physical abuse (appears after the page break)

When JJ wakes up he’s still wrapped in Pope’s arms. It’s hot and the sheets are twisted and at some point he must have rolled over a bit because his arm is bent at an awkward angle and his face is a lot closer to Pope’s than he remembers it being when he fell asleep, but it’s still nice.

Pope’s still asleep and JJ just lays there watching him – not in the creepy way, just in the normal, not creepy, way. Pope’s constantly stressed about everything and sometimes JJ just wishes he would chill the fuck out, but right now, lying in a tiny-ass bed with the sheets all bunched up and very little wiggle room, Pope looks the most peaceful JJ’s ever seen him. And there’s apparently this whole thing about how if you want to see people at their calmest and most real you watch them while they’re asleep which yeah, _that_ sounds creepy. But it’s kinda true.

And JJ really likes looking at Pope’s face. And he really, _really_ likes waking up surrounded by Pope. It’s like someone took a look at one of JJ’s fantasies that he pretends he doesn’t have and snapped their fingers and made it reality except so, _so_ much better.

Because Pope is really warm, and JJ can feel his arm sticking to the sliver of skin on Pope’s stomach where his shirt has ridden up during the night. He’s breathing softly and JJ makes sure to breathe in and out at the same time so they’re breathing together. Pope’s face is slightly flushed, probably from all the extra body heat, and his lips are parted. JJ’s spent a lot of time looking at Pope’s lips. Ever since he first realized, back in the eighth grade, that Pope’s lips looked a lot more kissable than any of the girls in their class, he’s wasted lots of hours sneaking looks. Sometimes they look soft, after Kiara lets him borrow her Chapstick, after spending hours eating ice cream from the Wreck. Sometimes they’re rough and chapped, split open from being chewed on too much out of nerves for a test or a presentation. Sometimes they’re bruised and bleeding, badges of honour left over from a fight with the Kooks. Either way, they always make JJ’s heart skip, make his throat choke up, and his insides squirm until he has to force himself to look away, make some stupid joke.

JJ’s pretty sure he’s going insane. His heart is doing a little happy dance in his chest and now he’s grinning like a maniac, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek very hard to stop himself from bursting into laughter. Last night feels like a fever dream and when he closes his eyes all he can see is Pope’s face, Pope’s lips, coming closer and closer and everything gets warmer and the warmth creeps way _way_ down and holy shit those are so not the kind of thoughts he needs to be thinking about first thing in the morning still wrapped up in Pope’s arms, and wearing Pope’s clothes. And goddamnit JJ didn’t appreciate that enough until now. The shirt is a little ragged, but it’s _Pope’s_! It’s soft and worn and it smells like him and when JJ pulls the collar up over his nose and closes his eyes and breathes in really deep the scent just surrounds him, and it’s seriously almost better than being high.

If JJ were thinking rationally, which he isn’t because Pope is right the fuck there, he’d tell himself this is a bad idea. He’s going to get too attached, and it’s just going to hurt even more when Pope doesn’t feel the same and pulls away. Instead, though, he just opens his eyes and looks back over at Pope, still asleep, and just lets himself stare.

He looks at Pope’s nose, and his lips, and his eyebrows. He looks at his eyes that are still closed, and he looks at the way the sun shines through the curtains and lights up Pope’s face, making his skin glow. JJ’s insides go all twisty again and he zones out just looking at him, going to touch his hair lightly, but not actually touching it just letting his fingertips rest lightly above Pope’s head because he doesn’t want to wake him up and shatter whatever this is.

Pope’s always been a little bit weird and JJ doesn’t get him at times – who the fuck reads books for fun? – but he never thought that Pope could surprise him. The joke’s on JJ though because for the past couple of days that’s pretty much all Pope’s been doing. First, he skipped out on his scholarship interview, then he smoked a joint and went all super-Pope, crashing cars and driving straight through mailboxes, and then last night…

JJ’s kissed a bunch of people. Tourons, girls and boys, a couple of kids from their school when he was wasted and spin the bottle was still cool, (and Kie that one time before she shut him down real quick), but somehow just feeling Pope’s breath on his face, Pope’s mouth near his mouth, Pope’s face right there… it was like better than sex (and JJ’s had a lot of that too.)

And JJ doesn’t do feelings. Hookups where he either dips before the other person wakes up, or has to endure an awkward morning conversation where he works his way around having to say a name that he doesn’t remember are much more his vibe. Except JJ doesn’t wanna dip. And he remembers Pope’s name. Sometimes it’s the only thing he can remember. 

And absolutely nothing’s gonna ruin this moment.

Except maybe his bladder.

JJ groans as he realizes that he’s gotta pee, like really fucking badly. He could stay there, half suffocated and so warm, but his poor impulse control tends to extend to every area of his life. So instead he untangles himself from the pile of bedsheets and limbs and slips out of the bed, careful not to wake up Pope.

JJ tiptoe-runs to the bathroom and lets out a sigh of relief as he pulls down his pants and unloads. When he’s finished and has washed his hands after remembering that that’s something Pope usually likes to do after peeing, he slips back out into the hallway and almost runs headlong into Pope’s dad.

Heyward looks at JJ suspiciously and even though JJ knows Heyward wouldn’t hit him he can feel himself starting to tense up, split-second fight or flight instinct beginning to kick in. Heyward shakes his head, annoyed but kind, then gestures towards the kitchen.

“I was about to make some breakfast for myself. Bacon, eggs. You want some?”

JJ gives a quick nod, still working hard to ignore the feeling of panic settling into his chest. JJ’s usually not too bad around Pope’s dad, he’s got a calming energy despite the fact that he’s not JJ’s biggest fan, but stumbling on him unexpectedly so early in the morning kind of fucks with the semi-rational part of JJ’s brain. Normally JJ would just fight off the bad feelings with jokes and insults, but he thinks that calling Pope’s dad a pussy when he’s letting him stay in his house and making him breakfast probably wouldn’t be the best call. 

Heyward grunts in response and starts to make his way down the hallway. He turns back around to see JJ still standing there awkwardly and tilts his head at him,

“You coming or not?”

JJ shakes his head to clear it and follows after Heyward, taking deep breaths as he goes. Heyward walks towards the stove and JJ sits down at the kitchen table as he turns it on. He watches as Heyward opens the fridge and grabs a couple of eggs and a pack of bacon, turning around to place them on the counter and switching on an old, rusted radio sitting on the windowsill above the stove. Come and Get Your Love by Redbone starts to play distortedly through the old speakers, and JJ wants to punch that radio.

The irony is thick.

It’s weird having someone else making breakfast for him. JJ’s not a terrible cook, just lazy, but he’s not used to eating this early in the morning, usually too hungover or newly high to bother whipping up some food. Yesterday was kind of a fluke. JJ woke up to find Pope gone from the bed and when he walked out into the hallway he could hear Pope breathing heavily (and probably crying) behind the bathroom door. JJ really wanted to just kick the door in and gather Pope up into his arms, but instead he did what he always does and walked away from the hard stuff, deflecting by making shitty eggs and mayonnaise on toast instead.

It’s strange, getting to just sit at a table while someone else works on the food, and not expect to be yelled at or bullied into helping. It’s unsettling, actually. JJ starts to tap erratically on the table.

_Taptaptap tap tap tap taptaptap tap taptaptap tap taptaptap taptaptap Taptaptap tap tap tap taptaptap tap taptaptap tap taptaptap taptaptap Taptaptap tap tap tap taptaptap tap taptaptap tap taptaptap taptaptap_

“So,” Heyward starts, looking back over his shoulder at JJ who stops tapping and sits on his hands instead,

“What are your plans after school? Gonna keep doing odd jobs with your Dad?”

JJ hasn’t worked with his Dad in years, not since he started drinking and stealing all the money JJ made as well, but he just shrugs and says, “Maybe. Probably not. I don’t really know.”

Heyward hums and turns back towards the stove, flipping the bacon over as he bops his head gently to the song coming from the tinny radio, “You’re not so bad kid. You just need a little discipline, self-control. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

JJ almost cries, “Yeah. Right. Thanks.”

“I don’t know what the hell Pope is going to do now. He’s ruined any chance he had at getting the merit scholarship and probably any other scholarship.”

JJ feels a twinge of guilt. He knows Heyward’s probably right. Kids who are poor and Black only get so many chances, no matter how fucking smart they are.

“I honestly don’t know what’s gotten into that boy. He’s always been a little strange, but this summer it feels like everything’s tipped over the edge and he just doesn’t care anymore. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you JJ?”

JJ shifts in his seat awkwardly, pressing into his hands, and shakes his head noncommittally, but Heyward doesn’t seem to notice, too wrapped up in his own thoughts.

“I know he thinks I’m too hard on him sometimes, and I probably am, but I just want what’s best for that boy. Pope is my only son and I want him to have better than I have. To _be_ better. I want him to have a good job, and a nice home, and to be surrounded by people who make him want to be better and who push him to be the best that he can be. Maybe that seems like too much, or not enough, I really don’t know anymore.”

JJ starts to tap his foot distractedly against the old linoleum floor.

_Taptaptap tap tap tap taptaptap tap taptaptap tap taptaptap taptaptap_

He knows that Pope comes from a much better family than he does. He knows that Pope’s much too good for him, both because of who Pope’s family is and because of who he is by himself, but JJ never really considered the fact that he might be holding Pope back. And he knows that it’s his fault Pope blew the interview. Because yeah, sure, okay, maybe it was Pope’s idea to run out, but JJ’s the one who pushed him to join them in the treasure hunt in the first place. And yeah, okay, maybe John B and even Kie also did a little pushing, but JJ’s always had some sort of trick to get Pope to go along with things. He doesn’t really know what that trick is, but he does know that he uses it way more than he should be. He used it to get Pope to sink Topper’s boat, and even though JJ took the blame for that, he can’t really take the blame for this.

_Taptaptap tap tap tap taptaptap tap taptaptap tap taptaptap taptaptap_

JJ jumps as Heyward comes up behind him suddenly, but he just places a plate of eggs and bacon in front of JJ, and then sits down next to him with his own plate. JJ reminds himself to relax. He picks at the food on his plate, still tapping his foot, faster, and faster.

Pope’s mom comes in as they’re eating mumbling good mornings and kissing Heyward hello, then she leans over and presses a gentle kiss to the top of JJ’s head, smoothing his hair away from his face, and something inside JJ breaks. The love is so casual and soft and motherly, and JJ doesn’t know what to do with it. He’s not used to it. It’s not something he deserves. Pope though…

Pope’s too good, too smart to be held back by JJ. And JJ thought he could just keep being friends with Pope, and keep sleeping here, and keep finding subtle ways to touch him and get closer and press against him and just pretend that he wasn’t corrupting Pope? Selfish. Selfish selfish selfish. JJ took advantage of Pope’s pain and of Pope’s caring nature and now he’s fucked and they’re both fucked and everything’s fucked and JJ doesn’t know how to fix it. And besides, even if Pope was maybe almost kinda close to kissing him last night it was probably a side effect from all the weed and all the beer and Pope’s going to wake up and be just a little awkward and then he’ll go crawling back to Kiara because she’s the one he loves. Not JJ. And JJ knows that Pope loves Kiara because he told her he did, and only assholes tell someone they love them when they’re just planning on leaving right after. And Pope isn’t an asshole.

So JJ’s gotta leave. Gotta get out of there. Go… Somewhere else. Away. Stop being so selfish. He can’t ruin things for Pope. Not more than he already has.

JJ pushes himself up from the table abruptly and forces himself to grin at Pope’s parents who are looking at him with concerned expressions.

“Um… I’m gonna head out. But thank you for the breakfast, sir. It was very good.”

“You sure JJ?” Pope’s mom smiles at him and it’s a smile that’s inviting him to stay. Telling him he’s safe here. Welcome here. JJ brushes it off.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Okay, well, I’m sure your dad’s missing you.”

“Yeah,” JJ forces himself to smile, “Right.”

Heyward stands up and claps JJ on the shoulder. He flinches involuntarily.

* * *

JJ goes home.

There’s really nowhere else to go and besides, he’ll have to face his dad at some point. May as well get it over with.

On the walk over he thinks about Pope and Pope’s parents and the love that exists in every corner of their little rundown house. He thinks about his own house, dungy and smelling of beer and dust. Of his mom, who used to give him kisses, used to read him bedtime stories, used to tell him she loved him before she left. Of his dad, who never told him he loved him, but who got so much worse after his mom went away. Who, no matter how hard he kicks JJ, how many bruises he gives him or how much he makes him bleed, JJ can’t help but want to impress. Want to earn approval from.

JJ approaches the house, winding his way through the old trees and brush, and he can feel his heart start to beat faster, his fingers start to twitch, his body start to tense up in anticipation. He squares his shoulders, jumps up and down a couple of times and takes a deep breath grinning and calling out, “Hey, dad! Betcha missed me!”

JJ makes his way up onto the porch, skipping over every second step, still grinning and acting like he’s just casually dropping in. Hell, for all he knows his father might still be passed out on the couch. He might not even know about the Phantom.

The minute he walks through the door JJ feels something hit him hard on the side of the head. It’s not a fist and JJ turns around to see his dad standing there holding a cracked beer bottle.

“You little bastard!”

He advances towards JJ who steps backward reflexively, arms shooting up to protect himself.

“Whoa! Hey, dad. Long time no see!” JJ chuckles awkwardly, the sound bursting forward involuntarily, scraping against his throat like it doesn’t belong there. It echoes throughout the house, clumsy and weak making JJ cringe. He looks around for something to defend himself with shooting glances at his dad the entire time to make sure he stays put. His eye catches upon their old, rusty fire poker leaning up against the coffee table. JJ goes to leap for it, but just as he does his dad swings the bottle at him again, JJ dodging out of the way just in time. The next time he isn’t so lucky, the bottle shattering against his arm, shards of glass digging into his shoulder. Pain shoots through him as the blood drips down to his elbow, warm and sticky, and JJ forces back a sob, pressing his hand to the open wound to try and stop the flow.

“I work hard but _you,_ you little shit –"

“Dad, please, I wasn’t gonna –”

“You run around all day doing fuck knows what with fuck knows who and then you come here and you steal the key to my boat? _My_ boat! You worthless, good for nothing, piece of shit!”

He shoves JJ, hard, and JJ goes sprawling onto the floor, letting go of his arm to try and cushion the fall, elbow still cracking painfully against the old wooden boards.

“And what do you go and do? You go and sink it! I got the police coming round here knocking on the door to ask me how my boat, my fucking boat, harboured a fugitive! Says it’s gone down! Says the two teenagers have gone down with it! I think one of them is you, but they say no, and by god, I wish one of them was you!” His face is a dangerous shade of red now, foaming at the mouth, he’s backed JJ into a corner and spits on him with each word, breathing heavily and jaw tense.

JJ can feel the breath leave his lungs as his dad starts to kick him repeatedly in the stomach. He curls in on himself trying to stop the worst of the blows, pressing hard into the floor with his entire body as if he’ll be able to sink down and get away if he presses hard enough.

“Fucking, good for nothing piece of _shit_!” With each word JJ’s dad kicks a little harder, the blows getting messier and less controlled. One of them manages to hit JJ in the face and now his lip is split wide open and blood drips down his chin, pooling on the floor. It’s sticky against his face and he can taste the metallic flavour sharp and insistent on his tongue. JJ’s brain shuts down and he stops trying to fight back. Stops trying to protect himself. Stops trying to spit out excuses or explanations or defenses.

He just lays there until eventually his dads had enough and walks away leaving JJ bruised and bleeding and shaking on the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things have been crazy globally, locally, and personally lately I apologize for the long wait (this is where the inconsistency in updates starts to seep in lol sorry)
> 
> Hopefully the next chapter won't take as long but my hopes and reality don't always align unfortunately
> 
> <3


	6. When Secrets Come Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pope POV

Pope hasn’t seen JJ in almost a week. When he woke up the night after their almost… whatever it was, JJ was gone. His parents said he’d gone home, but Pope didn’t believe them. JJ wasn’t that stupid.

Except Pope knows that sometimes JJ _is_ that stupid and it’s been five days and JJ isn’t at the Wreck, and he isn’t at the Chateau, and he isn’t on the HMS Pogue, and Pope’s worried. He’s _really_ worried. Because if JJ did go home and his dad did know about the Phantom then there’s no knowing what could have happened.

Pope knew that JJ didn’t have the best father, but he didn’t actually know how bad it was until that night in the hot tub. JJ never wanted to talk about it and anytime Pope tried to bring it up JJ would just brush it off and make jokes, like it was no big deal that his old bruises never had time to heal before new ones started to appear. Even after the hot tub JJ didn’t like to talk about it. Except that now he would get all embarrassed and turn red and mumble something about it being stupid and to just leave it the fuck alone.

Pope wishes JJ would let others protect him as much as he was determined to protect others. Because watching JJ break down, his abdomen littered with yellow and purple contusions, crying in Kiara’s arms about how he almost killed his own dad? Pope’s never been more scared in his life. And not of JJ, but for JJ. If this is the kind of stuff JJ’s been dealing with his entire life than it’s no wonder he acts the way that he does, stupid and reckless and without thinking. Almost like he has to constantly be on the move because if he physically slows down all the emotional shit will catch up with him. And Pope feels helpless. He wants to keep JJ safe, wants to protect him from his dad and the police and the Kooks and anyone else who would ever dare to lay a finger on him, and it hurts knowing that he can’t.

It hurts more knowing JJ probably wouldn’t even let him try. 

Pope’s just about to go out and look for JJ some more when he gets a text from Kiara.

_hey :) i know there’s a lot going on rn but I think we should talk_

_meet me at the wreck???_

_Sure_

_I’ll be there in ten_

When Pope arrives, he finds Kiara seated at a table in the corner, green apple, kale, and hemp seed smoothie in hand, and what he presumes is a blueberry-pineapple smoothie set aside for him sitting on the table.

Seeing her, Pope can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. Just over a week ago he confessed his love to her while high as a kite, acted like a dick to her when she said she didn’t like him back, kissed her, and then avoided ever talking about it. And now with the whole thing going on with JJ Pope’s head is all messed up and he’s kind of wondering whether he even likes Kie at all. Which is a hell of a dilemma to be having after finally getting to kiss her after what felt like months and months of pining. Though now that he thinks about it that pining could have maybe been a little misplaced.

He knows he _should_ like Kiara. She’s the logical choice. Pretty and smart, but also really kind and can kick butt if she has to. And Pope does like her. And he does think she’s pretty. But kissing Kie wasn’t as exciting as he thought it was going to be. It was still nice, her lips were really soft, and she smelled really good, but it just felt like something was missing. Like he’d kiss her again, but little by little the whole magic of the thing would just fade away if they did it too much. Pope’s pretty sure that’s not what kissing is supposed to feel like.

And then there was that whole thing with JJ a couple of nights ago where Pope’s head went all funny and his chest felt all tight and since then it hasn’t really untightened. As if his body somehow knows better than his head what his heart wants. Pope doesn’t really know whether it’s a bad thing or a good thing that JJ’s missing. At least his feelings are now one less problem to deal with.

Except no. His feelings didn’t go away just because JJ did and even if they had JJ being gone is a very, very bad thing.

He knows he and Kie are going to have to talk about the kiss eventually. It’s not something that they can just ignore forever, but Pope’s kinda just been letting it fly under the radar a bit – a little too preoccupied with John B and Sarah, and then also JJ now disappearing. If he could he’d probably just wait until he left for college and then send Kie a text saying _hey remember that one time we kissed? Wasn’t that so weird haha anyway I don’t like you like that sorry for saying I did. I was confused. And an asshole. Hope that’s okay!_

Just then Kiara looks up and sees him standing there awkwardly, before waving him over pushing out the other chair with her foot to offer him a seat. Pope sits down and grabs the smoothie off the table, taking a much longer sip than he needs to.

Kiara starts to fiddle with the numerous bracelets covering her wrists and she looks just as awkward as Pope feels. They sit there in silence for a bit, Pope slurping down his drink at an alarming rate, Kiara braiding and re-braiding the frayed ends of her pink and yellow bracelet. Kiara takes a deep breath in and Pope looks up at her,

“Okay, so I know there’s like, a lot going on, but I think we need to talk about the…” Kiara gestures vaguely towards her own mouth and then awkwardly towards Pope’s as if she doesn’t quite know what she’s supposed to call it.

Pope chokes on his smoothie and starts to pound on his chest his eyes filling up with tears as he tries to get the words out, coughing violently, “Yeah, yes. Yeah, we should talk about the – our – yeah –”

“Great!”

“Great!”

They lapse back into silence, Pope letting out one final cough. Kiara stares at him and he stares back. Neither of them want to be the one to actually start the conversation, so Pope decides it’d be better to just get it over with. Rip the band aid off, but nicely. Let her down easy. Say that he just doesn’t think he has time for a relationship right now.

“I think I might like JJ!” He blurts out.

“I’m gay!”

 _Shit!_ That was not what he meant to say, _wait, what?_

Pope’s brain is already trying its best to catch up with the fact that he said the one thing he was trying to avoid saying, and now it’s got double the amount of information to process because _what?!_

“You’re gay?!”

“You like JJ?!”

“Well no, I mean yes, I mean maybe? I don’t know. Cause we maybe sorta kinda almost maybe kissed?”

“What? Pope!” Kiara hits him hard on the shoulder and Pope bats her hand away, “You have to tell me these things!”

“Oh like what? Things like you being gay but still kissing me?”

Pope smirks at her and she at least has the decency to look a little ashamed before rolling her eyes back at him, “Yeah okay, I shouldn’t have done that and I’m sorry. I didn’t want to let you down or whatever, and we were all worried about John B and it was kinda just an in the moment thing, I don’t know what I was thinking. It felt like I had to,” Kiara adds softly, and Pope feels bad.

Yeah it hurt to be rejected, but what kind of an asshole yells at the girl who rejects them and then revs his engine when she tries to talk to him about it and basically makes her feel like his emotions are her responsibility?

“It’s okay,” Pope touches her arm gently and he hopes she understands all the love and care he’s trying to put into that one touch, “I was a dick to you about it before, so you get a pass. Besides, I’m really glad you trusted me with this, and I support you one hundred percent, obviously. And I love you very much.”

“Thank you. I love you too.”

Kie smiles at him, a little teary-eyed, and Pope smiles back, grateful that she seems to have forgotten what he said about JJ.

“But seriously, what’s this whole thing with JJ?” Or maybe not.

“I don’t know Kie. I don’t even think it matters. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t like me anyway.”

“You think _JJ_ doesn’t like you?”

Pope nods. He’s been thinking about it a lot the past few days, like, a _lot_. Like, that’s the only thing he’s been thinking about. And he’s pretty sure part of the reason JJ ran off is because Pope was acting too weird. Trying to push himself on JJ and not even asking him whether or not he was okay with it.

Kiara snorts in disbelief, then hits him upside the head.

“Ow!”

“You’re so smart, but you’re such an idiot Pope.”

“What was that for?!” Pope rubs the back of his head soothingly. For someone whose entire motto and way of life is like something straight out of a VSCO girl account, Kiara can really pack a punch.

“Have you seen the way JJ looks at you? And how he always touches you all casually like – Oh it’s cool bro,” Kiara crosses her arms and gives Pope the sup nod, “I’m just gonna rest my arm on your shoulder dude. No homo though man. I like guns and weed and not talking about my feelings haha.”

“That was a terrible impression.”

“I’m serious Pope,” Kiara drops her arms and the stupid low voice she’s adopted and looks him straight in the eye. Pope doesn’t like that, he feels like Kiara sees a lot more than she’s letting on. Feels like maybe she’s seen some of this before and just didn’t say anything.

“He never touches anyone else as much as he touches you and that’s the kind of thing you do when you have a crush on someone.”

“Okay, but what about the whole no pogue-on-pogue macking thing?”

“Oh now you care about that?!” Kiara scoffs, “You didn’t seem to have such a problem with it when you confessed your love for me.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Pope groans and drops his head onto the table. He never wants to relive the embarrassment of that moment ever again, “I am done with smoking.”

Kiara pats him on the back sympathetically and Pope raises his head just a little to look at her,

“Anyway, I’m pretty sure the reason he ran away is because I tried to kiss him. I haven’t seen him at all since that night and I think I scared him off.”

“It’s JJ, Pope. If you scared him off it’s because he’s processing his own feelings. And since it’s JJ that’s gonna take a _really_ long time.”

Pope laughs then, and Kiara smiles at him. It’s pretty insane that just a week ago Pope was convinced he wanted something more from her, because what they have right now, drinking their 20 oz smoothies in the middle of a hot-tourist spot that smells like the inside of a pizza oven and feels like somebody just doused the place in molasses-like humidity, talking about gay stuff like it’s no big deal even though thirty seconds ago they both thought the other was straight – that’s pretty perfect.

There’s still the whole problem of JJ missing though.

“Okay but Kie, what if he went back to his house? What if he’s hurt? What if his dad…”

Kiara pauses for a second and bites her lip. Pope knows she’s just as worried as he is.

“We could go over there and check,” Kiara offers.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Yeah. Let’s do that.”

* * *

Pope’s never really been to JJ’s house before. JJ always preferred to go hang out at John B’s or the Wreck or on the HMS Pogue and Pope used to think that was just because he needed a change of scenery, needed somewhere where he could move around and be as stupid as possible. He knows now that that obviously wasn’t why. Even when Pope has briefly stopped by JJ’s house to pick him up on their way to school, or to come with him when he has to grab something from his house, JJ always made him stay outside.

Pope’s never seen JJ’s father, not up close, but he shudders to think what kind of person can beat their kid over and over again as if it’s just no big deal. And Pope knows that JJ is strong. Like, so so strong. He puts on a brave face every time he leaves the house. But he doesn’t deserve to deal with that kind of shit – no one does, but especially not JJ. JJ with his pretty blue eyes and his funny lopsided smile, and his inability to go five minutes without touching Pope on the shoulder, on the cheek, on the arm. JJ who will do whatever it takes to protect his friends even if it means going to jail, or getting fined 30 000 dollars, or risking one of the worst beatings of his life.

Pope feels like he’s going to be sick.

Kiara walks along beside him, saying something about how only 1 in every 1000 hatched turtles survive into adulthood which is a thoroughly depressing fact, and Pope takes this opportunity to change the subject – both to stop her from rambling and to get his own mind off things he’d rather not be thinking about right now,

“So if you’re gay – ”

“I am.”

“Did you have a crush on Sarah Cameron?”

Pope’s half joking when he says it, just wanting to talk about anything other than the overwhelmingly high death rate of baby turtles, but to his surprise and incredible amusement Kiara turns bright red and opens and closes her mouth wordlessly for a minute before saying something along the lines of “We you I Sarah nonononono what why you no I no.”

Pope’s never seen Kie flustered before, but he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy it. It’s funny to see the girl who seems like she has everything figured out fall apart in some sort of blind gay panic at the mere mention of her crush’s name.

“Anyway, turtles –”

“You’re deflecting Kie.”

“Oh look! It’s JJ’s house.”

“You and Sarah Cameron,” Pope hums thoughtfully, “I guess I can see it.”

They both burst into laughter, but stop as soon as they hear someone call out from in front of them,

“You can’t be here! This is private fucking property!”

Pope swallows deeply and his eyes immediately land on a rough looking man standing on the porch that leads to JJ’s house.

Up close, JJ’s father standing only a couple of feet away from them, Pope can see the resemblance. Luke’s holding a beer bottle in his right hand and leaning casually against the railing, smirk plastered across his face. He’s watching them with a twinkle in his eye, but Pope can tell there’s something simmering under the surface. It’s so painfully JJ… but also not. Like someone took all the endearingly annoying parts of JJ and turned it dangerous. The twinkle in Luke’s eye is less mischievous and more malicious. That thing simmering under the surface isn’t repressed (like JJ has a tendency to do when he doesn’t want others to worry), but predatory, like he’s saving it for just the right moment and then he’ll pounce. Pope knows that JJ could never be this man.

“Um… hi.” Kiara clears her throat and takes a step forward as if she’s about to approach the house, but Pope holds out an arm to stop her. Nothing’s happened yet, but Pope has a very strong feeling that he never wants to let anyone he cares about anywhere near this man. He’s sick to his stomach just thinking about JJ being stuck with him all these years, asking nobody for help, either out of fear or shame. Or both.

“What do you kids want?” JJ’s father takes a sip from the bottle in his hand and Pope watches as the beer dribbles down his chin, staining the faint scruff on his face a sickly orange-brown colour.

“We’re friends… of JJ’s…” Pope trails off, not sure how to continue this conversation. He can feel his breath starting to pick up the longer JJ’s father stares at him, that stupid fucking smile covering his entire face, and his brain is telling him to run, but his feet stay firmly planted in place. Kiara slips her hand into his and gives it a gentle squeeze,

“Like Pope said, we’re friends of JJ’s and we were just wondering if he was here at the moment. We haven’t seen him in a while and wanted to… hang out.”

“JJ’s grounded.” Pope gets an overwhelming urge to punch him. He knows that’s a lie because JJ’s never grounded and even if he was he wouldn’t let that stop him.

“Okay…Okay well… can we see him? Just for a minute? We have something important to tell him.”

“What is it? I’ll tell him for you.”

“It’s private.” Kiara’s jaw tenses and she’s hanging on to Pope’s hand so hard now that his fingers start to go numb.

“Private,” Luke scoffs and throws back his head a deep laugh ripping itself from his throat. Pope has never hated the sound of laughter more.

“That’s real cute little lady, but you and JJ are gonna have to fuck some other day.”

Pope tears his hand from Kiara’s and starts to make his way towards Luke, blood rushing in his ears, but Kiara grabs onto his arm, grip viper-like and refuses to let go.

“Let us see JJ!”

“I’d love to, but I can’t,” Luke shrugs nonchalantly and takes another sip from the bottle in his hand, “He’s not here.”

“ _What_.” Pope sees red.

“Then why’d you tell us he was grounded?”

“Why not?”

“Where is he?” Kiara asks, voice low

“Hell if I know,”

JJ’s father straightens up and tosses the half empty beer bottle over the porch railing. It lands at their feet shattering once it hits the ground and Pope and Kiara both step backwards, shocked, the shards just barely missing their flipflop-clad feet. All the previous merriment and nonchalance is gone from Luke’s eyes as he looks at them, his nostrils flaring and his jaw tense,

“I’m tired of you, both of you. Now get off my fucking property before I call the cops.”

“We were just leaving.” Kiara grabs Pope’s hand and yanks him away. Pope lets himself be dragged back down the path, his legs moving on autopilot. They don’t talk all the way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mlm/wlw solidarity


	7. Something That is Not Directly Expressed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JJ POV

JJ hasn’t been fully sober in three days. He has no reason to be, it’s not like there’s anyone who needs him right now, and if JJ wants to destroy his liver well then, that’s his hill to die on.

It’s been over two weeks and now that the numbness JJ had before whenever he thought about John B and Sarah has turned into actual emotions JJ realizes how much he misses not feeling anything. And since organic numbness is apparently no longer an option drink-induced numbness pretty much does the job.

After getting up off the floor once he was sure his dad had passed out on the couch JJ had grabbed a wad of cash, packed some clothes in a bag, and left the house. He spent the past week avoiding any place he could think of where Pope and Kiara would be likely to look for him, and sleeping outside – in trees, on the beach, in abandoned shipyards – only to wake up stiff and soaked from the morning mist. His clothes stink because he couldn’t be bothered to pack a second pair, and he’s blown all of his cash on beer and weed and little else. Now he’s out of money, and he’s out of weed and he’s almost out of beer and that kind of sucks ass.

So, JJ’s risked going down to the beach to surf because, quite frankly, there’s not much else to do right now. And besides, it’s been a full week and JJ’s pretty sure Pope and Kiara have probably stopped looking for him. Or at least decided that he needed some time to himself and agreed to leave him alone to figure shit out. Not that JJ really needs shit to be figured out. He’s fine.

Surfing helps a bit. It’s easy to ignore everything going on with the water rushing under your feet and the wind whipping through your hair. The added challenge of trying to keep his balance while plastered out of his mind also helps. After about four hours straight on the water, JJ’s just about ready to fall over into an induced coma and not wake up for at least a couple of months. At least the fact that he can’t feel his legs, and the only thing he can hear in his ears is the remnants of the rushing waves means that his brain is pretty much fried and empty and unable to focus on anything more serious than climbing up onto the beach, exhausted and shivering, and grabbing another bottle of beer.

“JJ?” JJ can hear someone calling out behind him and he whips around fast, beer spilling over the side of the bottle and splashing onto the sand.  _ Goddamnit Pope. _ Why’d he have to find JJ like this?

Pope drops the bags he’s holding on the sand, not even seeming to care that something sounds like it just broke, and starts running towards JJ. He throws himself into JJ’s arms nearly knocking him over and squeezes tightly. JJ would hug back, but his arms are trapped at his sides and he’s trying very hard to remember how to breathe. Not being able to touch Pope for a week and then getting an armful of clingy Pope squeezing the life out of him in less than two minutes is really doing a number on JJ’s already fragile emotional control. His head feels a little clogged. Like there’s static in there and nothing else.

“JJ, holy shit man! Kiara and I were worried sick!”

“Sick?” JJ untangles himself from Pope’s arms and steps backwards, head still fuzzy and cheeks flushed red, either from the beer or from Pope he doesn’t know, “You don’t seem –”

“That joke’s been done before JJ,” Pope shakes his head exasperatedly, but he’s smiling at the same time, “Let it go.”

“Yeah well… needs must.”

“What?”

“You know… Stuff happens. Things are said. Needs are… musted. It’s an expression. I think.”

“I know,” The smile is gone from Pope’s face and he’s looking at JJ with a concerned expression.

JJ turns around to gesture towards the ocean, pretending that he’s soaking in all the fucked-up events of the past few days, but really he just wants Pope to stop looking at him like he’s falling apart and Pope is helpless to do anything to stop it. JJ may not know what to make of his own emotions ever, but he’s gotten really fucking good at reading Pope’s. Most of the time anyway.

Pope touches JJ’s shoulder gently when his back is still turned and JJ just about has a heart attack. He jumps away from Pope, senses heightened to the max by his tipsy state, and then feels guilty about it. He feels even guiltier when he sees the look on Pope’s face. He looks like he’s about to cry and as he raises his hands slowly, making sure they stay where JJ can see them, his eyes scan JJ’s face carefully. JJ’s muddled brain takes way too long to process why he’s doing that and by the time it catches up it’s way too late. Pope’s hand brushes the side of JJ’s cheek softly and JJ can feel when it hits the bruise because there’s a tender kind of ache that comes along with it. Pope’s hand moves down to gently swipe across JJ’s bottom lip where the badly healed cut keeps reopening, and JJ winces a little. It hurts, but not enough for JJ to pull away completely. Sober JJ hates tipsy JJ, but tipsy JJ kind of just wants to lean into Pope and feel his soft hand explore every part of his face, his neck, his body.

Apparently, there’s just enough sober JJ left to convince himself to take a step back. Pope’s arms drop down to his side and hang there a little awkwardly as if he’s not sure where to go from here.

“Um… Kiara and I looked everywhere for you. We also kind of talked about, um, certain things and I don’t know, it’s not super important or anything, but I thought it might be a good idea to tell you about it,” JJ starts to zone out the longer Pope talks.

It’s not that he doesn’t love listening to Pope talk because he does. Fuck he loves listening to Pope talk. But JJ hasn’t really slept more than three hours in the past two days, and Pope’s voice is so smooth and his face is super attractive and JJ’s really tired and still a little drunk and Pope is probably the prettiest person in the whole entire world with the sun setting behind him and lighting him in a halo of golden rays.

JJ thinks that tipsy JJ qualifies as devil JJ and sober JJ is slightly less devil JJ. Pope would be angel JJ. Or not angel JJ because that would be weird. Pope is just an angel. Period. No JJ involved, because JJ doesn’t want to hook up with himself. Not that he wants to hook up with Pope. That would be weird and a breach of trust and contractual obligation and whatever else can be applied to the word breached. Breached kind of sounds like beach. JJ and Pope are standing on a beach. The sun is going down and there are some really loud fucking ducks nearby. JJ tried to feed them some bread earlier. He was high out of his mind and the ducks looked really friendly and JJ needs more friends. He’s already lost one of them and he’s pushing the other two away so obviously the logical next step is ducks. Except now that he’s less high he remembers Kiara telling them something about never feeding bread to ducks because that will kill them and now that JJ thinks about it the ducks might be screaming really loudly because they’ve been poisoned and oh fuck. Oh FUCK!

“Pope! Did you know you’re not supposed to feed bread to ducks?!”

“I – what?”

“I’m a duck murderer, Pope, a duck murderer!”

“Okay…”

Pope sounds confused and JJ doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t remember what Pope was talking about, but he’s pretty sure it had nothing to do with ducks.

“Do you maybe wanna… sit down?” Pope looks like he thinks JJ’s about to pass out, or throw himself into the ocean or something equally concerning so JJ flops down onto the sand, just letting his limbs go totally loose. Pope laughs as JJ hits the ground, startled, and then keeps laughing as he lies down next to JJ.

Too close. That’s too close. Pope’s hand is right there and it’s right next to JJ’s hand and when two hands are that close it usually results in hand holding being initiated by someone with piss poor judgment and zero control over their own very gay feelings. So JJ scoots away just a little bit. He tells himself that he’s imagining the disappointed look on Pope’s face.

“JJ?” Pope moves his arm just a little closer to JJ’s and JJ can feel Pope’s skin brush against his, feather-light. JJ lifts his arm and places it behind his head so that they’re not touching anymore.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

JJ snorts. It’s such a ridiculous question because the obvious answer is no, and the obvious lie is yes, and Pope knows JJ and he knows that he’s going to lie so why bother asking.

“Yes.”

“Right.” Pope shifts even closer and JJ wants to shake him. He needs to stop doing that before JJ does or says something that he can never take back. And if JJ thought he felt drunk before it’s nothing compared to how he feels now. The tips of Pope’s fingers are resting on the sand right beside JJ’s torso and when they twitch like they tend to do when Pope’s thinking particularly hard JJ can feel them graze the skin where his shirt’s ridden up.

The sun is setting and casting a rosy golden glow over everything and when JJ turns his head just slightly he can see the rays spread across Pope’s body, across Pope’s face, lighting up his eyes and tinging his cheeks with a light pink dusting.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck no.

How is it that JJ managed to share a tiny ass rickety old wooden twin bed with Pope two nights in a row, but he’s just about a minute away from spontaneous combustion laying beside him on a never-ending beach? It’s some fucked up logic.

“We should talk about John B.”

Spell broken. Thank the non-existent gods.

“No,” JJ snaps, a little harsher than he means to, but at least it’s enough to get Pope to pull his arm away and wrap it tightly around his own body.

The past week has been a bit of a blur. The days all kind of just melded together and JJ’s pretty sure it wasn’t just the beer and weed making them do that. There’s not really anywhere to go from here and there’s no way things are going to get better so there’s no point in pretending that they are. And it’s a lot easier to drown out all the pain – physical, mental, emotional JJ checks all the fucking boxes – than it is to revisit it over and over again with the knowledge that’s it’s never fucking going away. 

“Okay then can we talk about —"

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

“I was high Pope.”

“Okay.”

“So I was just fooling around.”

“Right.”

There’s a long pause then, where Pope looks like he’s trying very hard to think of something to say and JJ feels terrible and strange, but doesn’t do anything to fix it.

Pope sighs, deep and exhausted, “Well can we talk about anything?”

“I don’t know. You can tell me some forensic facts or something.”

“Really?” Pope sounds doubtful.

JJ shrugs. It’s not like he’s going to tell Pope it’s because he likes listening to him ramble on about things. That he likes it when his eyes light up and his face gets kind of flushed when he’s explaining something he finds super interesting or, in JJ’s case, super confusing. He’s not going to say that letting Pope ramble on gives JJ more time to just watch him. Watch the way his hands move about wildly, the veins standing out, his fingers long and expressive. Or the way he bites his lip when he’s trying to remember a particularly complicated fact.

So instead JJ just says, “Whatever. It’s something. Just don’t make it too boring.”

Pope looks at JJ for a second, eyes roaming his face as if he’s trying to figure something out. JJ can feel his cheeks starting to heat up and he ducks his head and turns away, breathing in and out in and out and silently screaming at the butterflies in his stomach to calm the fuck down.

“You know how a bunch of TV shows always use lie detector tests to prove whether someone is innocent or guilty? Well, that’s totally inaccurate because tons of psychologists agree that there’s very little basis to the science behind it. Like, the science itself is pretty sound and there is a correlation between blood pressure and heightened emotions, but that has absolutely nothing to do with whether or not the person is guilty,

Pope’s voice starts to speed up the more he explains himself and he trips over his words a bit in a rush to get them out, but he makes these really interesting faces when he gets excited – all scrunched and expressive – and JJ gets lost in just examining the difference between every single one. Pope’s arms are raised a little above their bodies, gesturing wildly in the air above them, making half shapes against the darkening sky, and his eyes are bright and excited. To anyone else it might seem like Pope’s gotten lost in the explanation, unaware that anyone else is there, but JJ knows that Pope’s still focusing on him because when JJ hums just a little bit to show he’s listening the side of Pope’s mouth tilts up for a second before he continues speaking, 

“Because like, it’s very obviously possible that the heightened blood pressure can be from nerves, or anger, or fear or whatever else someone being placed under intense questioning is feeling. The man who kind of led to the invention of the modern-day polygraph test was a psychologist William Marston. And he figured out that systolic blood pressure had a strong correlation to lying, but he never meant to use that knowledge to create a polygraph test necessarily. They also have this procedure where they have suspects answer two types of questions known as ‘relevant’ questions and ‘control’ questions. Relevant questions are more specific and relate to the case while control questions are broader and more theoretical, and it’s presumed that if a subject reacts more to relevant questions than control questions there’s deception there. Which is super dumb like, you can’t just decide someone’s guilt based on their reaction to certain types of questions!”

JJ doesn’t totally agree with that. He thinks if someone asked him a relevant question, say ‘Do you have a big fat gay crush on Pope?’ his response would pretty much give away the guilt he feels.

Pope pauses for a second, out of breath and a little flushed, and he looks like he’s trying to make up his mind about something. JJ’s trying very hard to focus on anything other than the way his heartbeat quickens and his chest rises and falls as he watches Pope,

“William Marston was also the creator of Wonder Woman,” Pope continues, his voice cracking, “And his wife Elizabeth and their life partner Olive were probably two of the women behind most of the inspiration for the character.”

JJ can feel his stomach clench up which is weird because the idea of one man and two women living together happily in a relationship shouldn’t be making it do flips like it is, “Why is that relevant?”

“It’s not,” Pope sighs and JJ feels like he said something wrong, “I just thought it was sweet.”

“It is sweet,” JJ whispers softly, almost unintentionally, and he can feel Pope shift beside him.

It’s a lot darker now and when JJ turns his head to the side he can just make out the outline of Pope’s face. His nose, his cheeks, his mouth. Pope turns to look at him and even though their faces aren’t that close JJ gets a tingly feeling all over his body that starts in his fingertips and then spreads outwards. It’s disgusting and hot and sticky and electric and JJ wants to sink into the sand and never come back up. It’s also addictive and JJ wants more, more, more.

He writes it off as after-beer affects completely ignoring the fact that beer has never resulted in those kinds of physical reactions before, because, you know, he’s had a LOT of beer in the last few days. That’s gotta have some sort of unexplainable consequences. 

“Please don’t leave again JJ,” Pope says and his voice shakes, and he almost sounds like he’s about to cry, but that doesn’t make any sense because Pope is better without JJ around. He’s  _ supposed _ to be better, he’s not supposed to still be falling apart and crying and making JJ feel like a shitty friend.

JJ pushes himself up off the ground and starts to kick at the sand. His foot hits a half-buried seashell and he cries out in pain, “Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!”

“JJ, it’s not that bad,” Pope gets up to go examine JJ’s foot, and JJ bats him away.

He glares at Pope and it’s probably hard for him to see it in the dark, but JJ thinks he gets his message across.

“Look, I know you don’t wanna talk about anything that’s happened because you wanna be strong or whatever other bullshit, but you can’t keep ignoring this forever,” Pope sounds like he’s trying very hard to keep his voice level.

“Oh fuck off Pope!” JJ shoves him and Pope goes stumbling backwards, but he doesn’t fall down, “You’ve got Kiara, you’ve got your parents. I don’t have  _ anyone _ anymore, okay? I lost everything when that boat went down.”

“You have us JJ,” Pope screams and JJ takes a step backwards, “Kiara and me, we’re here for you! You’re the one who’s been hiding for like what, almost two weeks? Two whole weeks you’ve been gone and we had no idea where you were. You left without even saying anything – not to me, not to my parents, not to Kiara, not to anyone! Do you know how worried I was – we both were? I even went and talked to your Dad because I thought –”

“You saw my Dad? What did he say? What did he do to you?” JJ gets uncomfortably close to Pope’s face, trying to see if he can spot any bruises or cuts by the dim light coming from the moon. He doesn’t touch Pope, instead letting his hands flutter awkwardly around the sides of Pope’s face, but he wants to.

“Nothing, JJ,” Pope’s voice sounds hoarse and exhausted and JJ realizes that this is probably the most he’s ever yelled at anyone in his life. Now that he isn’t yelling JJ thinks that he was probably only doing it to stop himself from crying, “He didn’t do anything.”

“Oh… Well, good,” JJ backs away, teary grin plastered on his face, and he thinks that laughing would probably be incredibly inappropriate right now, but he’s so tired and everything is so ridiculous and backwards and it’s not funny, but it really really is in kind of a sick, fucked up way, “Saves me the trouble of having to get back at him, right?”

“Yeah. I miss you JJ.”

Oh.

“I know you think you’re protecting us by hiding, but I already lost one friend, I don’t need to lose another,” Pope starts to cry a bit, tears rolling silently down his cheeks and JJ freezes. He presses his mouth into a thin line, trying to wrap his head around everything Pope just said. Trying to wrap his head around the fact that Pope is crying and it’s because of JJ. Or for JJ. Or something. It’s JJ-related.

“Hey… Hey, c’mon man,” JJ wraps his arms awkwardly around Pope’s shoulders ignoring the voice in his head that says this is a bad idea, and holds him close. Pope reaches up and grips the back of JJ’s shirt tightly like he’s worried JJ’s going to let go. He presses his face against the side of JJ’s neck and JJ’s forever grateful that Pope is too busy trying to control his sobs to realize that JJ has basically just stopped breathing. He can feel Pope’s tears, wet and hot, stream down the side of his neck and onto his shirt, but he doesn’t care.

Once Pope’s breathing has evened out and his body is no longer shaking, JJ pulls back a bit to look at him, but keeps his hands pressed against Pope’s biceps to make sure he stays grounded,

“I’m not gonna leave. I mean, I can’t miss the chance to see what kind of gorgeous babies you and Kiara are gonna spit out,” he jokes.

“JJ, Kiara and I broke up. I mean if you can even call it a breakup. Kissing once doesn’t really make you a couple.”

Oh.

_ Oh. _

Oh no.

Shit.

It doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything. Just because Pope broke up with Kiara or Kiara broke up with Pope or they both broke up with each other that does  _ not  _ mean… anything. It means nothing. At all. It can’t.

Because if it does mean something, if it means even the smallest  _ tiniest _ thing, then that also means that there’s hope and hope is never a good thing to have.

Not for JJ anyway.

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont know how to end my chapters blah blah blah
> 
> also these keep getting longer and longer oopsie


	8. The Seven Movements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pope POV

Things are getting better. It’s not perfect and it’s never going to be, but they’re figuring it out together, Kiara, JJ, and him. They try to get out at least a couple of times a week, even if it’s just to go and sit on the beach in silence, watching the waves lap at their toes. Pope and Kiara have both talked about going to therapy or grief counselling – JJ dipped out of the conversation the first time they brought it up and covers his ears anytime he hears them talking about it – and the idea of having to talk through all this shit with a stranger is kind of terrifying to Pope, but he does think that it could be a good idea, at some point. If he finds someone good enough and cheap enough.

The nightmares that Pope used to get where he’d wake up sweating and screaming from trying to swim to the top of a tumultuous ocean have been happening less and less.

He thinks JJ’s nightmares have been less frequent too but he’s not quite sure because after Pope dragged JJ back from the beach JJ insisted he sleep on the couch. And then after a couple of nights of sore backs and a lot of tossing and turning JJ went to stay in Kiara’s guest room because “she’s rich and has the space so why the hell not”.

Pope tries not to show how much that hurts.

Things between him and JJ have been a little confusing over the past month. They don’t talk about that night on the beach and when Pope tried to bring up JJ’s dad JJ completely shut down and refused to even look at Pope for about three days after which, honestly, Pope should have expected, but he stupidly believed that their hug and their conversation and the fact that Pope pretty much blew up in JJ’s face meant that things might have changed. Apparently not. Instead, it’s like there are times where JJ doesn’t even know Pope exists. They’ll hang around with Kiara and at the wreck and he’ll not say a word to Pope the entire time. And then there are other times, usually after JJ’s been drinking, when he’ll completely drape himself over Pope and run his hands up and down his body, the tips of his fingers hot against Pope’s side, burning right through the fabric of his shirt.

And JJ’s always been touchy, but now Pope’s become hyper-aware of every single brush, every accidental knock of the knees, every warm hand placed on the back of his neck or the side of his cheek. And it doesn’t help that JJ’s still drinking about three times as usual, which means he’s become about three times as clingy with 40% less of a filter. Neither Kiara, nor Pope have chosen to mention it though. Because JJ may be drinking, but at least he’s here and at least he’s safe and at least he’s not running away anymore.

And either Pope is being paranoid or his hyperawareness has just made him hyper-observant, but he thinks that there are times where JJ catches himself and pulls away before he can go too far. Pope doesn’t know how to tell him that there’s nothing JJ could do, no way he could touch him, that Pope would consider to be going too far. It may have taken him about five months of misplaced pining, and a couple of incredibly embarrassing conversations with Kiara to figure out exactly how he felt, but now that Pope knows he knows for sure. He’s not going to say love. He’s not at a point of complete self-destruction just yet. But like is something that he’s pretty much slipped into without hesitation. 

The hot and cold is hard to deal with, but Pope doesn’t know how to bring it up without making things even more awkward. And he thinks that just maybe he’s being a colossal idiot because he basically confessed his feelings to JJ multiple times – first when he tried to kiss him, and then again on the beach when he told him he missed him and cried and got snot all over JJ’s shirt – and it achieved nothing at all.

It’s almost like they’re caught in this dance where they both think they know the choreography, but then one of them will make a move that’s just slightly off from what they thought it was going to be and everything’s thrown off rhythm. Pope was convinced that JJ hated him, and then Kiara went and pointed out how touchy JJ was with Pope, and Pope was no longer sure. And then Pope was convinced that JJ was embarrassed about the almost kiss, brushing it off as him being high and nothing else, but then JJ went and froze when Pope told him he and Kiara had broken up and it wasn’t a ‘I-feel-bad-for-you-but-this-is-awkward-and-I-don’t-know-what-to-say’ kind of frozen, but more a ‘I-really-did-not-expect-this-holy-shit-what-do-I-do-now’ kind of frozen complete with pink cheeks and wide eyes. At least, Pope _thinks_ that’s the kind of frozen it was. And JJ’s eyes _were_ really wide. And very blue. And he _was_ blushing, which was like, just the most adorable thing Pope had ever seen, and his shirt had still been wet with Pope’s tears and his hair was messy and full of sand, but before Pope could reach out and brush the sand away, JJ dropped his arms and took a step back. And then didn’t look at Pope all the way home.

Just another part of the choreography that Pope needs to catch up on.

He tries not to think about it too much, though, instead throwing himself into his summer reading. He tells Kie and JJ that it’s because of his lost scholarship and the fact that he now needs to work ten times as hard just to have a halfway decent shot at getting into a good university and being offered a substantial scholarship. At least, he does if he wants a spot at an out of state school where he isn’t the only Black kid in a sea of overwhelmingly white classmates. And he does if he doesn’t want to be the face of a ‘non-racist’ school and make an appearance on all the posters and promotional materials, but be expected to keep his mouth shut during class when the professor mentions a number of white politicians and revolutionaries and excuses the actual literal fucking owned slaves or supported segregation part, because ‘they’re very important to the development of the American identity’.

So yeah, there is a lot of truth in that statement, because Pope does have to work really hard, but he’s also working really really hard to avoid JJ. And he’s pretty sure Kiara knows this because she bursts into his room about a week after he’s started to hole himself up and drags him down with her to the HMS Pogue where JJ is already waiting, spread out across the deck, eyes closed and hair blowing gently in the wind.

It’s the first time they’ve gone out on the boat after the incident and Pope’s chest clenches uncomfortably as he takes in its familiar run-down appearance, the boat bobbing gently in the water. It reminds him so much of John B that he almost believes his friend is about to pop up over the side, hair dripping wet and cheesy grin plastered across his face. But of course, John B is gone and no one pops up over the side of the boat. It’s just him and JJ and Kie and an old piece of metal and screws that only hasn’t been confiscated by the police because they’ve deemed it next to worthless regardless of the role it may have played in John B’s escape.

The uncomfortable feeling shoots through his entire body, but Pope climbs up onto the front of the boat anyway. He’s worried that taking it out for a spin will somehow count as an act of betrayal, shitting all over their dead friend’s memory, but somehow the idea of not enjoying the freedom the HMS Pogue has to offer feels like even more of a betrayal to John B’s name.

Pope makes his way over to JJ and he can’t help but nudge him with the toe of his shoe. He can tell it’s going to be one of the days where JJ gets overly touchy because he opens his eyes and grins at Pope, smile wide and toothy, his eyes glazing over just a bit as he takes in Pope’s face, which is starting to heat up the longer JJ stares. Before he can turn into a flustered mess, Pope tears his eyes away from JJ and moves to sit down beside him at the front of the boat. Kiara climbs in after them and pulls up the anchor. For once in her life, she doesn’t even jokingly complain about the fact that they’re both just leaving her to drive the boat by herself.

JJ pushes himself up to rest on his elbows as Pope lowers himself to the ground, fidgeting with his legs a little before he finally decides to sit cross-legged, hands placed firmly in his lap to prevent any wandering. He turns to look at JJ and is surprised to find him already looking back, eyes soft and lips turned up slightly, like he’s in a daze. And when JJ realizes Pope is staring back, he tilts his head to the side and shoots Pope another toothy grin before winking smugly, and when he does Pope feels the need to turn away very very quickly because his insides go all funny. Not a bad funny, necessarily. Just a very strong kind of funny — all twisty and hot — and it’s a lot to deal with, especially when he finds Kiara watching them, eyebrows raised and a knowing smirk on her face.

He turns back to face JJ, against his better judgment, and swallows hard when he finds JJ still looking at him, but he manages to push through the lump in his throat to ask, “Just how drunk are you right now, JJ?”

“Not drunk at all. Kiara’s mom stole all my beer.”

“You shouldn’t have stored it all under the bed dumbass,” Kiara mutters as she starts to steer the HMS Pogue away from the dock and out into the open water

JJ shoots Kiara a look that is obviously supposed to mean he’s very upset about this turn of events, but which just comes off as playful teasing instead because the grin still hasn’t left his face.

This version of JJ is sending Pope’s mind for a loop. He tries not to overthink it too much though, because a happy, sober JJ is miles better than a happy, drunk JJ. Happy, drunk JJ may be touchy and flirty and cause Pope’s brain to come up with increasingly embarrassing, incredibly private scenarios, but happy, sober JJ makes Pope’s heart beat faster than it’s ever beat before because there’s something so genuine and soft about the smile plastered across his face, and the way his eyes light up. Pope wishes there was a way he could make sure that smile stayed on JJ’s face forever.

JJ lets out a sigh and lies back down, arms pillowing his head. He stretches his legs out as far as they will go and the side of his foot bumps against Pope’s knee as he does so, but he doesn’t bother to move it. Pope’s breath catches in his throat and as much as he feels like he should shift so they’re no longer touching he doesn’t. Instead, Pope sits there, body tense, as JJ begins to lightly tap the toe of his shoe against Pope’s knee.

_Tap taptaptap taptaptap tap tap taptaptap tap tap taptaptap taptaptap taptaptap tap taptaptap taptaptap Taptaptap tap tap tap taptaptap taptaptap taptaptap taptaptap tap taptaptap taptaptap_

Absentminded tapping is something that JJ does a lot. He taps his fingers against Pope’s chest when his hand is resting there, he’ll tap his foot against Pope’s foot when they’re both sitting at the edge of the dock, legs hanging over the side, he’ll even tap the side of Pope’s cheek lightly with the tips of his fingers, his rings brushing against Pope’s skin cold and metallic.

Pope figures that it’s probably a habit JJ’s developed to help deal with his mild kleptomania – so he can satisfy the urge to constantly be moving and touching things. But those small touches tend to make Pope feel even more on jittery than usual because he really wants them to mean more than that. But even though every small touch, every point of contact, drives him just a little more over the edge Pope doesn’t say anything. He tells himself it’s because it’s actually a pretty decent coping mechanism, but really he knows it’s because he just doesn’t want JJ to stop touching him.

_Taptaptap tap tap tap tap taptaptap taptaptap tap tap tap taptaptap tap taptaptap taptaptap_

“So,” Pope clears his throat awkwardly and shifts his knee just a bit. JJ stops tapping. Pope pretends not to notice the loss of contact. 

“How’d your guys’ meeting with the cops go?”

About a week ago they were all finally called in for questioning by the police, but since none of them were actually there when Rafe shot Peterkin and they all have a quote-unquote ‘bias’ in John B’s favour, their testimonies don’t mean much.

Pope spent his entire interview tense and on edge, acutely aware of the gun peeking out of Shoupe’s holster, and overly paranoid that they were somehow going to figure out it wasn’t actually JJ who sunk Topper’s boat, despite the fact that all the questions they were asking him had absolutely nothing to do with that. They did ask him a lot of questions about John B’s mental state and his regular consumption of alcohol and drugs, as well as Pope’s own habits. They seemed to be trying to steer him towards a certain kind of answer because a lot of the questions were about John B’s motivations for killing Sheriff Peterkin and attempting to frame Rafe by manipulating his sister which, since Pope had actually talked to John B before they went out on the water and listened to what he had to say, obviously wasn’t the truth. He also hated how they talked about John B. All distant and detached like his death was just another thing that they had to deal with, another case or mystery that needed solving so they could satisfy their quota and go home happy and 50k richer.

“You know the cops,” JJ shrugs and laughs humourlessly, as Kiara shakes her head face expressionless but hands clenched tightly around the wheel, “They already had the story they wanted. Wasn’t much I could fucking do to change their minds.”

“Besides,” Kiara adds, “Ward and Rafe are rich as hell. They were always going to get off.”

“Kinky.”

“JJ!” Kie shoots him a disgusted look, but Pope can’t help but let out a burst of laughter. Things may be shit and only barely starting to get slightly less shit, and JJ may not be one hundred percent himself yet, but at least some things never change. And anyway, none of them are the same person they were before. For fuck’s sake Pope’s just figured out he’s bi or pan or whatever!

Maybe not being the same person can be a good thing.

After they’ve driven around for a while, no destination in mind, JJ loudly announces that he wants to go for a swim and before Kiara can fully steer the HMS Pogue into an anchored position, he’s pulling his shirt over his head and leaping off the end of the boat. Pope lets himself indulge in the sight of JJ’s rippling back muscles, for once devoid of any fresh bruises or cuts, before he shakes his head and quickly pushes up off the ground to follow JJ into the water.

“You coming?” Pope pauses for just a second to look back towards Kiara, who has pulled out her headphones and laid out a brightly coloured beach towel on the deck.

She shakes her head, shooting him a mischievous smile and motions conspiratorially towards JJ who has popped his head over the side of the boat and is now dangling off the edge, making impatient grabby hands at Pope as he waits for him to join him in the water.

Pope tugs his shirt over his head and tosses his hat to the side, wiggling his toes at the edge of the boat as he prepares to jump in. It’s a really nice day, the air warm, but not humid and sticky like it often is in the subtropical climate of the Outer Banks. When he closes his eyes he can hear the water lapping gently against the side of the boat and he can feel the HMS Pogue rock from side to side as it shifts underneath his feet rising up and down with the tide. No matter where he goes, no matter what he does or who he meets, days like these will always be his favourite. Hands down.

The Outer Banks may be a shithole and there are a lot of things to hate about it including, but not limited to, the overwhelmingly backwards views held by a great portion of the general population regardless of whether or not they have money and status, but it’s still where Pope grew up. It’s where he met his best friends in the whole entire world and it’s where he spent summers learning how to surf, going to keggers on the beach, and figuring out how to fit himself into this little group of misfits. It’s where they went on a buck wild treasure hunt and almost won. It’s where John B lived and existed and played. It’s where JJ and Kie are and it’s where his parents gave him a home and taught him how to love and work hard.

It’s where he spent afternoons with Kiara one minute discussing the state of environmental collapse happening all over the world and the next making increasingly obscure _Finding Nemo_ references before John B shut them down because he said his head was starting to hurt. It’s where John B stayed up with him all night the day before Pope’s big, grade 9, biology test quizzing him until he was able to recite the answers in his sleep because it was Pope’s first real high school test and he was terrified that he was going to fail. It’s where JJ took him by the hand when he was 13 years old, despite the fact that they’d never exchanged more than a few words in their life. Pope was experiencing his first real panic attack and JJ led him to a quiet corner of the schoolyard, hidden behind a clump of bushes, where they spent the rest of the day tossing a hacky sack back and forth and eating chocolate chip cookies that JJ found in his shorts pocket. And it’s where he spent every day since falling more and more for a reckless, self-destructive boy who was always the centre of attention and wore long sleeve shirts in 30 degree weather to hide the scars and bruises and who cared about his friends so much he’d do anything, including taking on 30K in debt, just to protect them.

Pope keeps his eyes closed and takes in a deep breath, stretching his face up towards the sun, and letting the warmth wash over him and spread throughout his whole body. A hand latches onto his ankle and he’s abruptly pulled out of his thoughts – and off the boat – by JJ who laughs loudly as Pope hits the water with a splash. Pope comes up spluttering and in shock from the drastic drop in temperature to see JJ, cheeks pink and eyes bright, laughing so hard tears are starting to fill his eyes and he’s having trouble treading water effectively enough to stay afloat. 

Pope dives back under and squints in the murky water to see JJ’s legs thrashing about a foot from his face. He reaches out his hand and grabs onto one of JJ’s ankles then pulls hard so he shoots beneath the water, fully submerged. Pope stays under as JJ struggles to free his foot from Pope’s grasp, nearly kicking Pope in the head, before he swims incredibly close to Pope’s face, body twisting comically as he tries to reach it with his foot still caught. Pope’s heart starts to beat faster as JJ gets closer and closer to his face and his eyes dart down to JJ’s lips before shooting back up to meet his eyes. JJ stares back at him and Pope can feel his grip around JJ’s ankle loosening as he loses himself in the bright blue of JJ’s eyes. JJ yanks his foot away and swims towards Pope hands coming up to grip the sides of his face. Pope feels his eyes start to close and just as he thinks JJ’s about to kiss him he feels something slippery and wet brush across the side of his face. Pope opens his eyes to see JJ pulling away, smug grin plastered across his face.

He kicks back up to the surface and Pope follows, nearly choking on a mouthful of water in the process.

“What the hell man?!” Pope shoves JJ a little so he’s pushed backwards towards the boat, “Did you just lick me?”

“So what? You shouldn’t shame other people’s kinks, bro.”

“Oh, really? Licking the side of someone’s face while fully submerged underwater is what gets you off?”

“Fuck yeah, baby!”

JJ winks and Pope shoves him again, but he’s laughing as JJ grabs onto his arm and pulls Pope towards him until they’re both hidden in the shadow of the boat, and Kiara, still sitting at the helm, disappears from view.

JJ goes to push Pope back under the water, but Pope is prepared this time and he latches onto his chest as JJ struggles to push him down, refusing to let go even when JJ starts to splash water in his eyes. Pope splashes back and pretty soon it’s turned into a full-on water war and there’s no way the deck of the HMS Pogue isn’t getting soaked, but Pope doesn’t really care. He can’t see JJ at all since both of them are spraying up way too much water for him to be able to properly open his eyes, but he can hear JJ giggling, voice gargled as the water splashes up into his face and as muffled as it is it’s still one of Pope’s most favourite sounds in the whole entire world.

JJ laughs and smiles a lot – cracks stupid jokes and sends smirks and winks towards anyone who will pay attention to him. But a giggly, carefree JJ is a lot rarer and it always makes the sunshine just a little brighter and the air turn just a little warmer. As if the genuine softness of his voice flows over everything and turns it a little kinder and more welcoming than before. 

Eventually, they run out of breath, both from laughing too much, and from the sheer amount of effort it takes to continuously be splashing water towards each other while trying to keep their heads from sinking below the water, and they let their arms fall to their sides, allowing themselves to be rocked back and forth by the waves that have been created. JJ’s hair has fallen into his eyes and as he peers at Pope from beneath his bangs, chest rising with each breath, Pope can feel his heart skip several beats.

He reaches out his hand and gently brushes the hair off of JJ’s forehead, letting his fingers stray for just a second too long. As scared as he is to startle JJ or push him to do something he doesn’t want to do, Pope almost wishes he was brave enough to just grab JJ’s face in his hands and kiss him all over. He doesn’t, but he does let himself swim a little bit closer to JJ and he lets his fingers brush against JJ’s chest, lets their legs bump together beneath the water. Whatever it is that’s going on between him and JJ, no matter how unclear or undefined it is, Pope thinks he’s ready. And that thought is just a little scary because Pope’s always been someone who needs to have all the facts lined up and sorted out before he does anything. But he thinks that maybe this is okay. Maybe this thing, whatever it is, however it came about, will be okay. And JJ’s always made him feel just a little braver.

By this point, JJ’s entire face has turned red and as he struggles to think of something to say his head dips just below the water and he comes back up spluttering and disoriented. Pope laughs at the bewildered look on JJ’s face and reaches out for him again, going to wipe the water out his eyes, but JJ jerks backwards almost hitting his head against the side of the boat and mutters something about how this is wrong and this isn’t what is supposed to be happening and it’s all wrong wrong wrong.

The water feels as though it’s dropped below zero and as Pope pushes himself away from JJ, using the hands that he has resting on his chest as leverage, he struggles to keep his face under control. To force the pain shooting through his chest to stay there and not reveal itself to JJ.

“Because it’s like… Sometimes you feel things, right? But it’s wrong so you don’t wanna feel those things.”

Pope’s stomach drops, and it must show on his face, because JJ starts to backtrack, his hands coming up to tug at the strands of wet blond hair sticking to his face,

“Or, you know, not don’t, but can’t. Right?”

“What?”

“Like stuff that you do feel but you can’t feel because it’s important that you don’t do anything with those feelings so that everyone can live their lives and do great things without feelings and then no one has to worry about feelings ruining friendships or making things uncomfortable. And then you don’t have to worry about people getting sick of other people and realizing they deserve more and better and then everything becomes like super fucked up, and everything that was easy isn’t easy and it’s all just a big fucking mess and that’s not good.”

JJ pauses and as he looks at Pope warily, Pope feels as though he’s staring straight into his soul. Everything that Pope ever was or ever is or ever will be, comes unravelled right before JJ’s eyes until he’s laid bare before him and the absolute worst part of all of it is that JJ obviously doesn’t like what he sees.

“Oh, and also… sometimes touching just means touching, right?”

He’s figured it out. JJ knows how Pope feels and he doesn’t feel the same way. Even more than that, he wants Pope to stop coming on to him and to stop making moves. Of fucking course. Of fucking course this is what JJ wants! It’s so obvious now that Pope thinks about it. Saying that Pope and Kiara were good together, running away, moving in with Kiara. JJ made excuse after excuse after excuse to avoid Pope and to avoid talking about the almost kiss and Pope just didn’t take the hint. But he’s got it now. JJ touching him and sitting in his lap and kissing his cheek and tapping his finger against his leg, his arm, his chest feather light and so so gentle… He’s doing it as a friend. It’s a friendly thing. So Pope needs to stop thinking it’s any deeper than it is because JJ has noticed and it’s made him uncomfortable.

Before Pope can say anything, JJ has turned around and gripped the side of the boat, pulling himself up and hoisting himself over the edge. Pope watches as he disappears over the side, not even waiting to see if Pope wants a hand getting back up.

Pope can feel the beginnings of a panic attack starting to set in and he ducks under the water to get rid of the barrage of sounds rushing his senses. The water is murky and blissfully quiet, and Pope has to remind himself that he can’t actually breathe underwater before he does something stupid like trying to take deep breaths and inhaling a mouthful of dirty lake water. He counts to 10 over and over and presses the tips of his fingers to the end of his thumb, surfacing only for a couple of seconds before ducking back under. Finally, the anxiety goes away and Pope pops back up to the surface to see JJ and Kie standing at the helm of the HMS Pogue talking in hushed voices. He almost wants to ask them what it is they’re talking about, but he doesn’t think he could deal with anything else today so he just grips the side of the boat and pulls himself up onto the deck, snatching his towel off the floor and wrapping it around himself tightly.

Pope sits down in the far back corner of the boat and rests his head on his knees, closing his eyes. It may not have been a full-blown panic attack, but his head still hurts, and he just wants to go home. Things may be getting better, but that doesn’t change the fact that John B is dead. Sarah is dead. Pope and Kiara broke up. Pope lost his scholarship. Pope yelled at and hit his dad. JJ took the fall for Pope. Pope feels incredibly guilty. And Pope’s overwhelmingly in like with his best friend who now very obviously one hundred percent doesn’t feel the same way.

Pope feels someone sit down quietly beside him, but he doesn’t lift his head. He’s not sure he really wants to know whether it’s Kiara or JJ. He’s not sure who’d he prefer.

A small, calloused hand rests itself gently against Pope’s thigh and starts to tap a steady rhythm.

_Tap tap taptaptap taptaptap Tap tap tap taptaptap taptaptap taptaptap tap taptaptap tap tap taptaptap tap taptaptap tap taptaptap_

Right. Just one more part of the dance that Pope doesn’t understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's back from the freaking dead!
> 
> anyway im working an incredibly stressful 7-6 job that makes me come home exhausted and wanting to curl up into a ball and cryyy but i promise i will try my absolute hardest to not have the next update take so long but if it does pls be gentle ok ily
> 
> also, lmao, take a shot every time u can tell im not american

**Author's Note:**

> Let's see how much of this I can get written before my executive dysfunction decides to be a bitch :/ I was gonna wait until i had a couple more chapters down to post but im not that patient lol I haven't written in so long but the inspiration struck and who am i to say no to the inspiration gods, besides JJ/Pope is criminally underrated and we need more queer Kiara!!


End file.
